Jenny
Jenny's head was ringing as the rumbling faded. The earth still shook, but nothing like it had for the last hour or so. Still, she knew there would be aftershocks, which could be just as dangerous as the big quake that has passed. When the reserve generators kicked in and the lights flickered back on, she could see the damage around her. She crawled out from beneath her bed, where she had hidden from the debris that rained down from the ceiling. Only Joe and a few others, technicians mostly, had stayed in the control room, while Jenny and most others were sent to their rooms just a few minutes before Impact. She dusted herself off, raising a gray cloud around her. She walked to the door and opened it. Her room was close to Deacon’s, so she decided to go see if he was still okay.
The hallway was a mess. The air was thick with dust. She looked down at her hands—still dusty—and when she looked around and saw more people emerge from their rooms, she saw they were covered in dust as well. Yet they were alive.
Deacon appeared, looking as if he were in a hurry. She joined him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the control room. Joe will be there,” Deacon said. On their way they saw some people who were wounded, although most seemed okay, except for being shaken by the experience. A wall had given in, and they had help clear the rubble before they could continue. Half an hour later they reached the control room.
“Deacon, Jenny, you are all right,” Joe said.
“We are just going through reports on the damage to the facility. We expect to know more about the world outside shortly.”
One of Joe's associates came over and joined them, his face grave. They sat down at the table.
“Okay, hit me,” Joe said
“The facility is intact. There were a few cave-ins on the upper levels, and some damage to the outer hallways. The main gates are broken. There were two casualties, crushed by rocks that loosened from the ceiling. Other than that, it seems we have made it through.”
“So, what do we know so far?” Joe asked.
“Well, we do know there were two continental hits. One to the East, and one in northwestern Canada. Also, there was one off the California coast. There will be huge tsunamis on the East coast, and the West coast is already ruined. The Northwest impact caused the San Andreas Fault to open. We don't know the extent of the damage yet, but you can imagine,” he paused. “We have no word from the east.”
The table shook again, and Jenny started. Seconds later, it had passed.
“Aftershocks,” someone said, and another chimed in.
“There will be several of them. They can get bad enough, but for now, it seems we are okay.”
Jenny couldn't believe it. For years she had lived without any hope beyond this day. She had known she would die, along with everybody else. And yet here she was, still alive, in the reinforced facility, deep underground.
The door opened, and a few more people, technicians and scientists mostly, walked in. She heard crying from the hallways, but she couldn't say whether it was people crying out of fear or joy.
Devastator had come and destroyed the world. She had seen it, and survived.
Ed
Ed Walker sat in the darkness of his basement. The aftershocks that came and went shook the remains of his house, causing shelves to collapse. In the pitch black, he had already tripped on an overturned crate, fallen and hit his head, causing a bump that was still throbbing. His eyes would have probably adjusted to the dark by now, except that there was absolutely no light. He had sealed the cracks under the door, and not even the slightest flicker of light got in. But he knew where everything was supposed to be, and even after the aftershocks—and of course the impact itself—he knew approximately where everything was. He would survive.
The TV was dead, and though he still had batteries, the radio produced only static. Without TV, radio, internet, any sort of communication, he was in the dark, not just literally, but also he had no way of knowing what had happened to the world.
He stayed mostly inside his little cave, but there were hints that the weather was going rampant outside. When things seemed to quiet down, he took his first trip outside to have a quick look. At first, warm winds had come in from the west, bringing a salty tang of seawater even this far inland. He had remained optimistic then, although he should have known better. Then the temperature had gone completely bonkers, from steaming hot to freezing cold, and back to steaming hot again. Now and then, if he got really quiet, not moving, he could hear rain pouring down outside. It seemed to come and go. And whenever it got cold, the rain would turn to sleet, salty, dirty sleet that would melt and run down into his basement. Some days, ice formed up in the corners of the stairs, where only the door stood between him and the outside.
He had peeked outside a few more times, only to turn back quickly to avoid being seen by a gang of looters who were running wild outside. Yesterday, he had heard shooting in the streets. When will they come for me?
He had food and water to last him for a long time, but if the looters came— and they would, at some point—he would be easy prey. The more he thought about it, he saw that he had only two options. He could stay, safely tucked inside his basement, tearing through his supplies, only to reach the day when he had nothing left. By then it might be too late to get anywhere, since it would get a whole lot colder soon, because of the rapid global cooling. Or he could venture out now, into the unpredictable world outside. He could reach the mountains to the north in a week on foot. The mountains might hold scattered groups of survivors, and maybe he could hook up with them. Or, he would simply die out there. So he had one option that guaranteed him life in the short term and death in the long-term, while the other option guaranteed nothing.
He got up, and a wave of nausea hit him. The bump on his head was throbbing fiercely, and he steadied himself. Stay or go, stay or go? He paced the floor, stumbled on a can, and kicked it away. Stay or go, stay or go?
He stopped. Then he felt his way toward the stairs. He walked up and grabbed the door handle, opening it to what had once been his living room; what was now just an empty ruin, with a few remaining belongings scattered about, while anything useful had been taken by looters. He crossed the room and opened the door, staring out into the unknown. Then he went back inside and began to pack his backpack.
Robert
Robert was carrying Ryan, while hunching over him to keep the worst of the sleet off of his son. The five-year-old was holding Mr. Teddy tightly, even in his sleep, and Robert made sure the teddy bear didn’t slip out of his hands when he moved. That would have been devastating, he thought, which forced a sad smile to his face for a second.
The runny sleet reached almost to his knees now, and for the past hour he’d grown increasingly worried that they wouldn’t last through the night. He saw that Anne was struggling, while her older brother Kevin helped her along. Liv didn’t say much, but kept moving, which was good enough for now. He stopped for a moment and looked at the people following along behind them. Ethan and Barb were supporting each other, and Robert had a feeling that as long as one of them didn’t fall behind they would both make do. Although older than him, they had a strength he couldn’t describe, a strength that came from somewhere deep within. He realized the couple had become almost like family to him, and the kids seemed to like them as well. It was like they had gotten their grandparents back.
Behind them, the mother and her two kids were struggling to keep up. The kids were six and eight, and she had to prod them on every other minute. And she seemed to be growing weaker, too. Whenever the group took a break, she would sit back, trying to get some rest, while her kids screamed for her to do something, for their father, the fireman who had stayed behind in the US, or at each other. Robert realized that if they didn’t find shelter soon, the mother, whose name he didn’t even know, would break down.
A trickle of slush ran down the inside of his boot and he cursed. Had it been any ordinary day, Anne would have admonished him, watch your language Dad, he thought. Now though, Anne had enough willpower just to stay on her feet.
Beside the sleet, the thing that worried him the most was that they were out of food and clean water. Without food, their strength would quickly diminish, and with no more clean water they would soon have to drink the runoff from the sleet. That would finish them off quickly. The sleet was a dirty, salty mush, and a large part of it was made up by seawater from the oceanic impacts.
“Look! Is that a house?” he heard Kevin shout. Robert squinted and then he saw it. A shadow, barely seen though the sleet, but a building it was. A house, in the middle of nowhere. The windows were dark. It looked abandoned. The sight seemed to give Anne new energy, and she and Kevin ran ahead.
“Careful!” Robert shouted, “There can be...” he trailed off. The kids were already almost out of earshot. He remembered their commandeered cabin. He felt a stab of panic, and quickened his pace. He half-expected to hear a gunshot any second.
But as he reached the house, the front door shot open, and Kevin stood in the open doorway.
“It’s empty!” he said. Robert saw his son’s eyes were glowing, and he wore a grin from ear to ear.
“There’s food, and water, and clean beds!” he said. Robert turned and saw his wife’s relieved face. For now, and hopefully for a few more days, they were safe.
John
John and Derek had been walking for a week since Devastator hit. Johanna was dead, mortally wounded in an earthquake following the impacts, and Derek was solemnly following along. John wondered if they would ever reach Boulder, where he hoped his family was still located. He constantly dreamed of seeing them again, and at night he would go from hopeless despair to fierce determination. It had been years now—who knew what the situation was there?
“How long till we reach Boulder?” Derek asked, as they walked along a ridge that would take them around an area they had decided to avoid, as it was covered tracks that could only be from military vehicles.
“No idea,” John replied. “Shouldn't be more than a day or two, but I'm not sure.”
“Have you thought about...what if—” Derek began.
John gave him a hard look. “I can't afford to think like that,” he said, not for the first time.
“I'm sorry. I just...”
“I know, Derek, I know.”
They walked on in silence. The aftershocks had been bad for the first few days, and Derek had hurt his wrist when he fell down a hillside. It looked a little bit better, but he complained about the pain, and John wondered if it had been fractured. He remembered all too well how Johanna had suffered an injury when devastator hit. She had bled to death, but she was still alive when they left her behind. John still felt bad about it, but he knew there was no way any of them would survive unless they kept moving.
On the horizon they could see the lights of a hundred wildfires. If they stopped moving for too long, the fires would trap them, and that would be the end of it. For a few days they kept moving—even at nighttime—but now they were just too tired, and had to take turns getting some sleep. One of them would keep watch, while the other would get some sorely needed rest.
They were also afraid that scavengers might be out there, searching for people that were vulnerable, like them. People with guns, ready to kill for food, shelter, or whatever. They knew there were survivors, and they had even heard gunshots on two occasions, which told them the situation was bad. Really bad. One of these days they would run into someone.
“So what do we do once we reach Boulder?” Derek said
“I'm not sure,” John said. “But if we can reach the northern edge, that would be an easier approach.”
“So basically, we have to decide whether to go around or straight through, right?”
“That's right.”
When darkness began blurring the landscape, they decided to rest. They were not only sleep deprived, but also hungry— starving, for the most part. They had no food, other than what they could find along the way. Yesterday Edward had found a couple of cans of fruit. That had been a very lucky day. Now, they sat down to eat, and savored the sweet juices of a can of peaches.
John let the taste linger in his mouth, taking only small bites and relishing the sweetness, a brief respite from their otherwise bleak new existence. This must be what heaven tastes like, he thought. Afterwards, their somewhat fuller bellies pushed away the gloom, and they sat back and shared a moment in silence. Derek had become his best, most staunch friend, since they escaped the camp. The gaunt man had surprised him in so many ways; they even had a radio that Derek had fixed they sometimes used to listen for signs of other survivors. They used it sparingly though, since they had no spare batteries, but every so often they took it out and scanned through the frequencies. Nothing yet, but they hoped one day that would change.
John subconsciously knew that the chances of finding his family were slim. But he couldn't let that thought overwhelm him. It would be dangerous. It would kill them both. And if his family were still alive, it would kill them too. So they avoided such conversations, as much as they could. That was just how it had to be. In the back of his mind, John feared that their quest was futile, and that once they reached Boulder they would be in for a terrible disappointment. If that happened, John’s life would end in ruin, and he only hoped he wouldn’t drag Derek down with him. But living with hope beat dying without it, so they kept trudging along, while they watched the world around them die.
Joe
Joe Buchanan watched as ten strong men working together managed to open the heavy outer gates. He would have helped, but Cecelia had stopped him. “You are an old man, dear,” she had said. Then she had laughed at his reaction and kissed him on the cheek. So he had to stand by, watching as the men exerted themselves. It was backbreaking work, even though these were strong men, fit and young. As the door moved, daylight entered the tunnel. Although it was gray outside, with clouds hanging low, he had to squint in the light. His eyes had grown used to the darkness.
Once the gates were open and the entrance was secured from falling debris, they stepped outside. Joe smiled, watching the valley. It had begun to rain, just a few drops. He knew that soon it would get worse. This was the beginning of the long winter. And yet, even in the bleak, gray weather, he felt elated, uplifted. They were alive, against all odds. Yes, they had to secure the valley. The outer fence needed extensive repairs. Several of the vehicles, and some of the supplies and weapons stored on the upper levels, had been damaged. They needed to establish checkpoints and a form of small government. They should send out recon patrols in every direction; nothing like feet on the ground to get quality intel.
Half of the cabins had been ruined by the air raid, and quite a few were completely ruined. The rest of them needed repairs, although the destroyed cabins could be used as materials to build new ones. They needed to consolidate, prepare, and wait out the long winter.
Yet, it felt good, thinking of building, construction, preparing to live rather than die, to make something. He turned around and faced the others.
“For years, we have been preparing for this. We knew Devastator could be the end of us all, and we struggled, hoping for this day to come. Today is the day when we step outside our shelter, and see the world that we are going to rebuild. Today is the day we realize we have survived. Today is our first day in a new world.”
Kirstie
The first thing Kirstie noticed as she woke up was the smell of decay and saltwater. She heard murmurs around her, and she felt her body sway from side to side. She slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, she thought she had gone blind, but then she realized it was just the darkness. As the world returned to her, she realized she was outside, on the deck of a ship. She tried to move, but a blinding headache made her lay down, resting her head on something soft. When the throbbing subsided, she noticed there were no stars. Or rather, the stars were hidden by a thick layer of clouds. She moved her head again, carefully, slowly, and saw others were crammed together with her on the deck. Men, women, and children lying around, some sleeping, others in quiet conversation. Some were aimlessly walking back and forth on the crowded deck.
“Hey, she's awake,” someone said. The person who had spoken, and a couple others, came over to her.
“We almost had you thrown overboard. We didn't think you would wake up. Thought you were in a coma or something,” one of them, a woman of about twenty said. She held a baby in her left arm, and a half-empty bottle of milk in the other. The baby was sleeping.
“You have been out for three days,” the man, her husband perhaps, said. Kirstie tried to remember. She had been walking, with shaggy, in the Parks. Oxford.
“Where am I?”
The woman smiled, a sympathetic smile, before answering. “Well, at sea of course. We’re trying to reach high ground; last I heard we were headed for Norway. Seems a few people survived in the mountains.”
“But it’s slow going, and we don’t know what’s waiting for us there,” the man said.
The third person, an older man, hadn't said anything yet, but now he spoke. “This ship is actually a cargo freighter. One of the crew said they were moored at Antwerp, but they left port a week before Impact. Tried to get as far out into open water as possible. Only way to stand even the slightest chance of surviving a tsunami.”
The younger man cut in. “And they were lucky, they rode the wave all the way through the Atlantic, past Cornwall and the rest of South England. Been picking up people ever since. There’ve been more survivors in the water than you’d think, hanging on to whatever rubble they found. And the sea’s full of shit to hang on to.”
“That’s how they found you,” the woman said. “You were lying on top of a pile of floating trash, trash-bergs, we call them. It just sort of piles up together, and forms kind of floating islands. Actually, you’re not the only one who has been picked up that way.”
“You had hit your head. If you hadn't woken soon, you would have been put to sea again. Have to make room for the living,” the woman said. Then she smiled again. “I'm glad you did though, you look like a nice person.”
Kirstie had begun to remember, to realize the situation. She had survived, something she would never have expected. Now, headed for what was left of Norway, she would have no way to learn whether Dianne and Brian were still alive. They might be, in the shelter, but with the flood wave pulsing across the UK, anything could have happened. She tried to sit up again, and the younger man helped her. The throbbing in her head wasn't as bad this time.
“How long till we reach the coast?” she asked.
“Well, that depends. It should take us a couple more days, but with the trash bergs, there might be delays.”
Kirstie wondered what would happen to them once they reached the coast. The Norwegians had always been friendly to the Brits, but this was a new situation, with limited resources, and most likely a long winter ahead. She didn't know what to expect.
Something flickered in her peripheral vision. She said nothing, but then the woman exclaimed.
“It's snow,” Kirstie said, holding out the back of her hand where something glistened as it melted. Something landed on her forehead. She touched it with her finger, and then touched it with the tip of her tongue. Salty. Foul.
“It's starting,” she whispered.
Robert
Inside the house, Robert discovered the pantry was filled with canned food. Cans of fresh water were stored in the bathroom. The inhabitants of this house had probably been preparing for Devastator for some time. He wondered why they weren’t here, but no answers came to him. After looking through everything, Robert could see that if they rationed the food and water it would last for a couple weeks.
They all shared in the relief and joy of finding this treasure. The single mother introduced herself as Kate, and got to work cooking up a dish of meat and canned vegetables. Liv joined in, and soon enough the two women were chatting among themselves as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
They got out of their wet clothes, and Barb found some clean dry clothes stuffed in a closet. There was a mix and match of sizes, and although the clothes didn't fit well, Robert enjoyed being dry for the first time in a while. They laughed, some cried, and everyone seemed to be hugging each other. The old house even had enough beds for all of them. Robert thought that they would have stayed there forever, if they could. Clean water had never tasted so good, and the food was even better. Life was pretty good, at least for now.
After putting the kids to bed they sat down to talk.
“How long do you think we can stay here?” Ethan said.
“If we ration our food and clean water, this should last us a week or two. Maybe more,” Robert said.
“But, don't you think we could resupply somehow, fish, or something?” Liv said.
Robert shook his head. “I don't think so. With the sleet there’s not much to see. We don’t even know if there’s any lakes around, although there might be. And though we might get lucky, find a lake and even catch something, I really think we need to move on. Sooner or later, we will run out. And it's getting colder,” he said.
“There's a long, long winter ahead of us,” Ethan said gravely. They hadn't had a chance to talk much on the way here, and now Robert looked at Ethan, wondering if the scientist would share some of his knowledge with them. Ethan took a deep breath, and explained.
“You see, the sediment from the ground which is now spreading across the globe, high up in the atmosphere, will create a layer of dust that prevents the sun from reaching the ground. It will be like a filter. No one knows how many years it will take for it to clear. But because of this, we are looking at a temperature fall, snow instead of rain, very little sunlight...plants will die, most animals too, crops will not grow, snow and ice will cover much of the ground. One hundred years ago, it was thought this might happen after a full-scale nuclear war. They called it atomic winter or nuclear winter. Well, Devastator can be compared to that. I cannot tell you how long it will last, but I can tell you the only thing we can be sure of—all we will have for a long time are canned goods and nonperishables, and we have to make them last. The long winter will not last forever, but before it ends a lot of people will die, species will go extinct, and the Earth will need to reset itself.” Everyone around the table looked at each other.
“So we need to find one of the organized shelters,” the single mother, Kate said. She continued, “they will have prepared. They will have stored goods, food to feed people through this long winter, don't you think?”
Ethan nodded. “Yes they will. Of course, they won’t know how long it will last either, but I am assuming they will ration whatever they have, so it will last as long as possible. That's the best they can do, and if that isn't enough, then they will run out,” he said.
“Okay, so how far to the nearest shelter?” Robert said.
Liv brought up the old map she had taken from the car. “Well, this might not be accurate anymore, but it's the best we've got,” she said. She put her finger on the map, tracing along as she explained. “This is the border. We probably went about this far before we were stopped at the refugee station. Then we continued along this road, and I guess this is where we were, when Devastator hit.” She moved her finger to the right, slightly. “This must be where we were heading. The woman at the refugee station said there would be a shelter there. I don't know how many buses went before us, so we don't know how many people are there, but if there was a shelter, that might be our best shot.”
Robert smiled at her. That was what he’d been thinking as well. “So how long will it take us to reach it?” he asked.
His wife thought for a moment, before answering. “In normal weather, walking, I would say two more days. In this weather though, there is no way to tell. The sleet is getting deeper, and if the temperature continues to drop it will turn to snow, well there's just no way to know,” she said.
“So what do you think? Should we stay here for a while, and then move out, after we have got some rest?” Robert said.
Ethan shook his head. “No no, we have to get moving as quickly as we can. The weather will most likely become increasingly worse, so getting there will be harder the longer we wait. Also, a lot of people will be headed that way. The longer we wait, the less likely they are to let us in, once they realize this is the long winter, and everything they have will have to be shared, and last them for a long time. For every person they let in, the time they could last shortens. So the sooner we get there, the better,” Ethan said.
Robert nodded. “So, we’ll spend the night here, dry our clothes, get some food in our bellies, and get a good night’s rest. Then, tomorrow, we head out. We need to reach that shelter as soon as we can.”
They all agreed.
Mark
Mark Novak was standing next to the cryo cells, performing last-minute checks on the President’s cell, making sure everything was okay. Present Andrews was standing off to the side, talking to one of his personal bodyguards, and Mark couldn't hear what they were saying. Mark ticked off the final checkpoints on this list, before he laid it down on the counter next to the cell and turned toward the president.
“We’re good to go, Mr. President,” he said.
President Andrews, who looked like he had aged ten years in two weeks, looked back at him and smiled. You look tired, Mark thought. The president still had that nervous smile, or rather, that insecure smile, that Mark had noticed so long ago. The one that always lurked behind his harsh words.
“Good,” the president said. He turned toward the last guard remaining, except for the one outside the lab, and shook his hand. No more words were spoken. The president undressed and stepped into his cryo cell. Mark gave him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, before closing the lid. He then pressed a sequence of numbers, and a mechanism began to hum. The cryo cell filled with gas, and the president's eyes drooped, before they shut completely, as he seemed to relax. Mark stood, watching the president falling into a deep sleep, before he pushed a button and liquid began to fill the compartment. Mark walked over to the counter and picked up another list. This was the list of sleepers in this part of the facility. He checked off the empty box next to the president’s name. Almost one hundred names now had checked boxes next to them, and only his name and two others remained.
“So, are you guys all set?” he said to the bodyguard, Frank, who nodded affirmatively. The guards would be put up in an apartment nearby, with training facilities, a large entertainment room, a storage compartment filled with canned foods and nonperishables, a kitchen, and separate bedrooms. They were fully aware that while their lives would run their course, the sleepers wouldn't age significantly at all. One day, the sleepers would awaken, and relieve the guards from their duty. Nobody knew for sure how long that would take, but they knew that they might grow old before it happened. That all depended on how long it took before Earth became habitable again. In the meantime, they would make sure no stray survivors entered the facility. They would also monitor the feeds from the remaining satellites, motion detectors, and automatic drones. Well, the few that had survived, anyway.
Lastly, they would regularly monitor the health of every sleeper in the facility. Neither of them had more than basic first-aid training, but they had been trained to adjust the cryo cells so that if a sleeper needed anything that the AI couldn’t administer by itself, they would be able to override the system.
The only one left to be put to sleep was Mark.
As soon as the last guard left the room Mark walked over to a cabinet on the far wall, and removed the chain from around his neck that held a key. Then he inserted the key and opened his private drawer. He knew this one would be checked thoroughly by the bodyguards as soon as he was asleep. He looked around before taking out his gun and the spare magazine, and put them in his pocket. Then he walked over to the row of cryo cells that lined the lab from the counter to the far wall. Along with his own cell, these would be the last ones to be put in the storage compartment by the guards. They would then do a thorough check with metal detectors and other sensors, and once they locked the reinforced doors to the storage facility, not even an explosion in the lab would harm the sleepers. Mark walked to the end alongside the cryo cells until he reached the sliding door that led into the hallways and the storage facility. He pushed a button, and the door slid open. Then he took careful steps forward, counting every step until he reached the one point where the surveillance camera feeds intersected. After searching for something like this for weeks, he had finally found it: a blind spot. The lab would be searched, just like the cryo cells would. But this hallway was monitored twenty four seven, and there was nowhere to put anything here. Except, of course, behind the walls, once he pried open the wall plates with a screwdriver. Careful to stay within the blind spot, he put the gun and the magazine inside, and closed it up again. He took extra care to fasten the plate properly, so there was no sign it had been tampered with. He looked at it for a few seconds, before walking back into the lab, knowing it would be several years before he would set his foot in this room again. He exhaled, and tried to shake off the nervousness. After everything, this would be his most important act. He would change the world. And hopefully, if everything went according to plan, it would become a better place. He walked over to the empty cryo cell, and pressed the keys that would start the sequence. He was tired, and looked forward to the long sleep.
John
John Rawlins leaned against the wind and sleet, covering his face with his right hand. The weather was quickly becoming their worst enemy. It was pouring down, and walking had become more difficult with every hour. He licked his lips. The slush was salty, dirty, and John knew it had something to do with impacts way out in the oceans. He looked back at Derek, who was lagging a few steps behind. Leaving Johanna had been hard on them both. But Derek had taken it harder. John understood. It had felt like a betrayal. Johanna had been with them from the start, and leaving her behind to die was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. But she was mortally wounded, bleeding to death from an open fracture, which had cut the artery in her leg. They never had a choice.
John tried not to think about his family too much as he got closer to where they had lived before he joined the Exodus project. It was difficult enough just to try and stay alive, but knowing that they would likely be in mortal danger was too difficult to think about. He had to reach them. Even though it would be nearly impossible, he just had to reach them. He knew their chances weren’t great, but he couldn't go on living without knowing at least what had happened to them. In the back of his mind, he didn't know if he could go on living if the unthinkable had happened.
Derek caught up with him.
“We should get some cover,” he said.
“Over that ridge, there might be some trees we can hide underneath,” John answered.
They continued, desperate for shelter. So far, they had always managed to find somewhere to hunker down for the night, but one of these days they might not. That night would be very difficult to survive.
They reached the top of the ridge and saw the sparse forest below.
Tonight would not be that night.
Robert
It was the fourth day after leaving the house, and they were walking through the sleet, this gray, salty slush, that was now beginning to turn into dirty gray snow and ice. They were still searching for the government shelter, and Liv kept saying they ought to get there sometime today. Everyone was tired, but they kept their hopes up. At nights they were able to take shelter inside a plastic tarp they had found in the shed, back at the house. By day though, they were trudging along under miserable conditions. Kate cried every night. Robert felt sympathy, but there was nothing he or anyone else could do. Barb tried to comfort the woman, who had lost her husband, leaving her alone with two kids. The rest of them tried to keep up their spirits, but it was difficult at best.
“Arrêtez-vous!” a voice called out in French. They stopped, dead in their tracks, waiting. Soon, two armed men came forward, guns pointing their way. They spoke French, but Robert understood most of it, since one of the men spoke English interspersed with the French.
“Nous prenons seulement ceux qui nous seront utiles,” the closest man said. He wore what looked to be hunting clothes, and sported a hunting rifle with a scope. He had a thick beard, and his eyes had a faraway look. This man has used his weapon more than once, Robert thought.
“Only essential people past this point. We only take those who will be useful,” the man who spoke English translated, roughly. He was younger, not much older than Kevin, but looked capable with his rifle, and just as determined as the one with the beard.
“If you turn us away, my family will die,” Robert said. He pointed at Ethan and Barb, Kate and her kids. “And they will all die,” he said.
“Sorry. That is how it is,” the first man said, in heavily accented English.
“We might be essential though, you don't know yet,” Ethan said. The man nodded, and waved the one who had spoken English over.
“I speak more English than my uncle, so I will listen and translate,” the younger man said, indicating for Ethan to speak up.
“I am a professor of physics. My wife is a teacher,” Ethan said. The younger man spoke in French, and the older man looked at Ethan and Barbara for a moment before he shook his head.
“Sorry no. Not essential,” the younger man said.
“But what about the long-term? What about the kids, they need to learn. And I’m a physicist, I can teach you how to get energy, or...” Ethan said, desperation apparent in his voice. He hadn’t expected this, Robert saw. Ethan was looking at his wife, whose face had turned ashen. The younger man addressed Robert.
“You. You are younger. Can you shoot? Can you hunt?” The older man said something in French to him and the younger translated. “You look like you can handle yourself, my uncle says.”
Robert chose his words carefully. “Yes, I can shoot, and my son can shoot. We all can shoot. I can teach others as well. I was a police officer,” Robert said.
“Okay you can bring your family along,” the younger man said. Robert sighed in relief. They would survive, they were safe. The younger man looked at Kate, and motioned for her to step forward. “What can you do?” he asked.
“I teach biology. High school.”
The younger man translated, and again his uncle shook his head.
“Sorry. I am truly sorry,” the nephew said.
“But the children—don't you think they have to learn? Don't you think we need knowledge, to survive the coming years?” she said, voice trembling. The younger man smiled a sympathetic smile.
“Of course. But this is not the kind of knowledge we are going to need. We are going to need to know how to shoot. How to hunt. How to survive. How to farm. Nothing else matters at this point,” he said.
“I grew up on a farm!” Kate exclaimed. “I know how to farm, I know how to grow seeds, I know how to take care of the animals. Please sir, I'm begging you,” the younger man translated again, and the older man looked at Kate, squinting. After a moment he gave his nephew a brief nod.
“Okay. You can come, and bring your children,” He said.
Robert was relieved Kate and her children would be coming along with them. But when he looked at Ethan and Barb, standing there, his heart broke. He walked over to Ethan, and laid his hand on Barb’s shoulder.
“I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do,” Robert whispered, trailing off.
“It's okay Rob. You have to care for your family. These are harsh times, and it will only get worse.”
Robert had no answer. He had a hard time coming to terms with how these people prioritized. Ethan and Barb would have been such assets to them all, the physicist and the teacher. But he knew there was limited food in the shelter, and they had to focus on their immediate survival. He would come to terms with it, in time, but right now seeing his friends like this was just too much.
“We’ll return to the house, and I guess we’ll just do whatever we can, survive for as long as we can,” Ethan said.
Barb spoke to him as well. “You must stay with these people, and work hard for them to accept you. Think about your kids, Robert,” she said. Robert gave Ethan his gun, and some of the food left in his pockets, and soon the couple was on their way. As they returned the way they had come, Robert had a hard time holding back the tears. He knew he would never see them again.
John
John and Derek were spying on some looters from behind a snow bank, keeping their heads down, trying their best not to be discovered.
“We should do something,” Derek whispered.
“We cannot help them,” John shot back, irritated. Sometimes he wished Derek would realize that there was nothing they could do for most people; that most were screwed anyway, from the day Devastator hit. And yet, it was one of the things he liked and respected the most about his friend. He sighed.
They were on the outskirts of Boulder, watching a small group of people being tormented by a gang of looters. John hoped they would leave soon. His home lay on the far end of the next street. If his family was still there, he hoped they had taken shelter, because the gangs seemed to be running rampant in the streets.
When John and Derek were absolutely certain the looters had left, they emerged from their hiding place. The bodies of four people lay scattered in the streets. John tried not to look at them, but he had to, if only for a split second, just to make sure. Every time he saw a body, he had to make sure. And every time, he was relieved. So far. He felt bad about it, but his first and only priority was his family, and as long as none of them were among the bodies they found along the way, he would keep going.
They reached John's home a few minutes later. The door was open, the windows were smashed, and his garage had burned down. The house still stood though, and they entered.
“Melissa! Nate! Karen!” John shouted. Nobody answered. He walked into the kitchen, and found every cabinet door open, a few remains scattered about, but otherwise nothing left. The looters had been here. He checked the rest of the house, and found the looters had taken everything from blankets to his old shotgun, and even soap from the bathroom.
“At least the looters didn’t...” Derek said mumbled, before he stopped, abruptly.
“Yeah,” John, said, eyeing him sideways.
They stepped outside again.
“So, where do we go now?” Derek asked. John thought for a moment. They could head further into the city, but he suspected there would just be more looters burning buildings, more devastation. It would not be the logical way to escape for his family. North, however, away from the city, there used to be farmlands, where refugees fleeing the city could easily think to go. Of course, there were no guarantees, but the way John saw it, that would be their best shot.
“We go north,” John said.
“Okay let's get moving,” Derek said, hoisting up his backpack.
They had walked barely more than fifteen minutes before they saw a man lying on the sidewalk. The man, wearing something that resembled a uniform, but without any distinctions or unit tags whatsoever, had been shot in the chest. He was coughing up blood. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was dying. As they approached him, he looked up at them.
“You come to finish me off?” the man said.
John shook his head. “No man. Who did this to you?”
“They looked like bikers, but they’re just hooligans, looters, scum. I was a biker myself, back in the day, but that crowd—” He cut off, coughing, sputtering blood.
“Do you know what happened to the people who lived here?” John asked.
The man managed to control his coughing a bit, before he answered. “No, but I suspect they went to one of the refugee centers FEMA set up. Just north a ways.”
“What were you doing here anyway?” Derek said.
The man got a faraway expression. “I came from out west. There's a shelter there, I was part of a long-range recon team. We were gathering intel, trying to establish what has happened to the rest of the country.”
“Shelter? Are you with the government?” John said.
“No, no. It's run by a former Senator, but we have nothing to do with the government. In fact, the senator was a fugitive himself, when he started building the shelter. You may know of him, he was the head of the Exodus project.”
“The Exodus project? Really? I was put in a detention camp when I wanted to leave the project. That was certainly government business,” John said. He felt his anger rising. The man shook his head.
“The senator has been working against the government for a long time; I’m pretty sure he had nothing to do with any detention camps. Anyhow, you could try to get to the shelter. Some people call it Buchanan's refuge.”
“How do we get there?” Derek asked.
The man coughed heavily again. He was growing pale, and his voice had weakened. “You—” he swallowed. “You have to go north first, and then turn west. I had a map, but I destroyed it. Couldn´t let the looters...”
“Can you explain how to get there?”
“Sure. Like I said, you have to go north, until you reach the FEMA camp. There’s a city, but you need to go even further north. Then you head west...take you a while...” the man threw another coughing fit, and more blood came sputtering out of his mouth. His breath had become ragged, and his eyes glazed over.
“Come on man, don't die on us now,” John said. The man tried to say something, but ended up coughing more blood. John took his hand, and squeezed it. The man squeezed back once, and then his hand went limp. Derek sat down next to them, and closed the man's eyes. They quietly got to their feet, and looked north at the road ahead of them. Without speaking, they began to walk.
Ed
Ed was rummaging around in a trash can the looters had overlooked. He found some stale bread, a can of spoiled yogurt, and a couple of rotten apples. Before Impact it would have been disgusting, but now it was a treat.
“Let's see what we have here,” he mumbled to himself. A white plastic container had been covered inside a plastic bag alongside a used diaper. He threw away the diaper, and when he opened the container, his mouth watered. Chocolate balls rolled in coconut flakes. If he hadn't been hungry before, he almost lost control now. For a month, he’d been scavenging on the outskirts of town, after leaving the relative safety of his basement. He had gotten used to going hungry, and he always seemed to find something just when he was about to give up. Food had become all about survival, nothing else. Back when he was still married, he and his wife would go out at least once a week, eating at fancy restaurants. While it was first and foremost his wife who had insisted upon having this tradition, he had enjoyed it immensely. He had even tried doing so a couple of times alone, after his wife left. It wasn't the same though, so he quit trying, contenting himself with eating at home, or grabbing fast food on his way from work. Once he lost the job, TV dinners and junk food had become his usual choice.
Seeing the chocolate balls choked him up. So many memories came rushing in, forcing their way back into his consciousness again. Memories he had managed to suppress for so long. Things he had learned to cope with. He took one of the chocolates and held it for a moment before chewing into it.
“Amazing,” he whispered between chews.
He took the box and put all the chocolate balls into his pocket. He tossed the empty box away.
“Now what?” he said to himself.
He got to his feet, and looked around. When he left his basement, he had set out with a plan to go toward the mountains. He believed there might be people out there, away from gangs, looters, and all the dangers of the city. Of course, without all the people, there wouldn’t have been any remains to scavenge. There wouldn't be as much food and trash from which he could find something useful in the mountains, but even so the looters had already thinned out whatever remained here in the city. Soon, there wouldn’t be anything left. At some point he would have to take his chances, so the sooner he got away, the better. Would he perish out there? Would he starve to death? Would he be overtaken by gangs or people with bad intentions? He might, but all of that might happen here as well. He looked up the clouds forming. Another bout of rain, perhaps. The weather was unpredictable. Rain, sleet, rain again, then dry spells that lasted for a week.
He had heard that most people expected the impacts to cast sediments from the ground into the atmosphere, causing something similar to a nuclear winter. That might be true, but what he had seen so far was just chaotic. The long winter would probably come, but it would probably come first further north. He had no idea. This far south, the weather might hold for a bit longer.
A clinking sound made him start, and he immediately rushed to cover. Somebody was close. The looters? Do they have guns? Always his first concern. He waited. Soon after, a burly man came walking by. The man had an open sore on his neck, and a stained bandage covering his left eye. He stared frantically around, shouting something unintelligible. Ed noticed the machete in the man's right hand, and saw that it was stained black. Ed remained dead quiet, and even after the man passed, he didn't move for half an hour, at least. That does it, he thought. He had to get out. Out of the city. As soon as he got back on his feet, he turned toward the mountains in the distance, and began walking.
Kirstie
Kirstie stood at the railing alongside one of the crew. A Filipino man, he didn't speak much English, but they kept the conversation going, somehow, through simple sentences, sign language, and goodwill. They were entering one of the fjords on the Norwegian coast. The sea had receded after the tsunamis, leaving a gray, lifeless wasteland where there had once been a beautiful landscape, with small settlements near the water. The trees that had been growing in the steep mountain sides were ripped out by the enormous tsunamis, and all signs of human habitation were gone, the remains washed out to sea. She didn't want to think about the people. The sailor had already conveyed that he had heard the captain speaking of worldwide tsunamis, leaving coastal areas all around the world devastated. That would mean half the Earth's population gone, just from the tsunamis. Which, of course, didn't take into account the earthquakes, the impacts themselves, and devastation caused by fires, volcano eruptions, or the drop in supplies, such as food. And this was just a few weeks after Impact.
“I wonder if anyone will be there to receive us,” she said. The sailor nodded. He didn't speak much, but she had the feeling he understood.
“Do you...do you have family?” she said, immediately regretting the question.
“Please,” he said, gritting his teeth, “do not speak of family. Don't want to think.”
Kirstie felt ashamed. Who was she to ask such a thing? He was probably trying to keep thoughts of family and relatives at bay. Seeing what they were seeing here, in a coastal region, probably made him think of his own family back home. The Philippines were an archipelago. She could only imagine what the results of such devastating forces would do to such a nation.
The loudspeakers on deck beeped twice, followed by the captain’s voice.
“In about an hour we will reach our destination,” the captain said. A booming voice, with a slight accent, the captain commanded attention. She had seen him a few times, but never spoken to him. Still, she had faith in this man, since he and his crew had saved them all from drowning. She tried not to think about Dianne and Brian back home. They were hopefully safe in their shelters. The captain spoke again. “I have spoken to the local authorities, and they have room to take us in. One shelter, holding a couple thousand Norwegians, has survived up in the mountains, and there will be people waiting to receive you once we reach the end of the fjord. This ship will sail out again, even though we don't expect to pick up any more survivors. But the fjord is too dangerous for the ship to stay for long at the moment, so we have to find somewhere else to go. So, once you disembark, we will sail out again. Let me say this: it has been an honor, and we hope you will be able to survive, here in the Norwegian mountains. We have all seen the devastation, horrors too bad to fathom. On a personal note, I grew up in one of these fjords and you can all see what’s left...so I know what you are all going through. There is nothing we can do about that. But we can support each other, and try to make it through these trials. Okay, so once you leave this ship, you must obey whatever orders you are given by your hosts. They are trying to save you, and a whole lot of others. And if everyone works together, hopefully you might all make it through the coming winter. From what I have read, it seems it is going to last for a very long time. Good luck to you all.”
Kirstie looked down the side of the ship. Sleet was forming little pools on top of the water, which melted after a few seconds. It wouldn't last though. Soon, once the sleet got worse, the temperature dropped, and the heavy snow set in, winter would truly begin. Here, in Norway, it had already been snowing for a month, and the impacts had actually caused the temperature to rise to levels higher than it used to be at this time of year. It wouldn’t last though. Once winter began, it would last for years. All they could do was hope the mountain shelter had enough supplies to support so many people for several years.
They were alive. They had survived the greatest cataclysm humanity had ever seen, and they were bracing for what would come next. She expected the shelters to be well stocked and prepared for the long winter. After all, the leading theories all said the same thing. And maybe, just maybe, once the long winter ended, spring would bring a new beginning for this planet, the home of humanity.
John
They were staring at the burning city in front of them.
“We have to get find the way through,” John said.
“You sure that's wise, John?” Derek said.
“What choice do we have?”
“We could go west. It's not like we know your family is there, so taking our chances in the city, doesn't necessarily lead us to them. They could just as well have gone west.”
John shook his head. “No, we have to make sure. I would like to reach Buchanan's refuge as well, but my family comes first. I couldn't live with myself if I reached the shelter without them by my side.”
Derek shuffled his feet, and looked down. “John,” he paused. “I think it's time we parted ways.”
“You sure about that?” John said.
Derek nodded. “I haven't spoken much about my own family. They are most likely dead anyhow, living near the coast, with the tsunamis and all. The Northwest was hit pretty bad, and we already had the wars, the nukes and whatnot. But I have to make sure. I will try to find Buchanan´s refuge; maybe they will have more information there. If possible I may even continue further. If I can manage to find this place, at least I will have somewhere to take them if they are still alive.”
“I understand you Derek, I really do. Let's part as friends, shall we?” John extended his hand. Derek took it, and they held on for a moment.
“It's been...you have been a true friend,” John said.
“And you. Both in the camp, and after,” Derek replied.
John watched as Derek turned around and walked off, taking the long route west of the burning city. He was sorry to see him go, but he understood that Derek had to go and try to find his own family. John turned, and watched the city again. There had to be away through, and he would find it.
Jenny
Jenny was walking outside, feet trudging through the grey slush. Around her, everybody looked busy, frantically building and making repairs to the buildings that were still standing. They had to work quickly. The sleet kept falling, and soon the sleet would become snow. The snow would build up, and gradually begin to cover everything. What wasn't finished by then would remain as it was. They were preparing for the long winter now.
Beside her, Deacon Frost, Joe Buchanan’s closest associate, was walking, greeting people now and then, and giving and receiving messages, here and there.
“It will be a long winter. They say it could easily last for a decade,” Jenny said.
“That's true. It will be hard, but we are better situated than most,” Deacon said.
Neither of them spoke for a while, until they reached the south gate. Guards had already been placed, to make sure that the valley was safe. Jenny noticed the buried APCs with machine guns and rocket launchers, and thought it might be a bit too much. Then again, she had been there when the scramjets had destroyed half the buildings in seconds, so she knew there might be dangers lurking out there. Better safe than sorry.
Deacon spoke to the guards for a few minutes, before he motioned for Jenny to follow him back.
“I have to admit something,” he said. “I never managed to finish your novel.”
Jenny laughed. “It's not finished,” she said.
He laughed too. “I mean the parts you have written. How does it end?”
Jenny thought for a moment before answering. “Well, the people in the bunker survived. But there where others, good and bad. Some wanted to control everybody, to rule the world. Others just wanted to live in peace, to help each other, and to rebuild. But the bad ones were prepared. They had weapons, and they were ready to use them,” she said.
“Who won?”
“Nobody, not yet. They were too far apart. But given time, sooner or later, there would be a clash of titans, so to speak.”
“And then?”
“You will have to read it then.”
Deacon smiled, and she could see a fondness in his eyes. She felt something stir inside. She really liked him. Before she could react, he had leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek.
“What was...” Jenny felt her cheeks grow hot. Deacon didn't say anything, just kept smiling at her. Maybe winter will not be so bad, after all, she thought.
John
John crouched behind the rubble, but kept moving. He was sneaking through the streets while fires raged all around him. The smoke was thick, but he was able to breathe, and there were pockets where the fires had already passed, or where it wouldn't catch. He took out his water bottle, took a sip, and let a little bit run over his head. It was a relief; the heat was scorching. He moved on.
He had been walking for three hours since entering the city. It wasn't a straight line, but rather a zigzag, one moment moving to the right, the next moving to the left, and then moving forward a bit, before having to change directions again or double back and find a different route.
A sound made him stop. He stood completely still, and then he heard it again. A whimper. He carefully walked toward the sound. There could be looters around the next corner. And he had already seen what they were capable of doing.
He rounded the corner, and a stray dog passed by. It looked at him, whined, and moved along. John exhaled, relieved. He had already passed the city center. Anytime now, he would reach the northern outskirts. He had seen no signs of refugees so far, and all he wanted right now was to leave this burned out city behind.
A shuffle, in the rubble beside him caught his attention, and made him move, making the blade miss him, by no more than a finger´s breadth. The robber stumbled by, and John braced for a second attack.
“You sonofabitch. I'm going to get you,” the robber said.
“Whatever you are carrying, it's mine.”
“You will have to come and take it then,” John snarled. The robber moved tentatively, waving his knife at John. John thought the robber looked desperate. One of them would not leave this place alive.
The robber lunged at him, and John stepped aside, instinctively lashing out against the robber, hitting him on the side of his head. The robber stumbled backwards, and John moved after him, careful not to get too close to the blade. The robber had lost his balance though, in the fall. John heard a crack when the robber hit the back of his head on the rubble. His eyes, wide-open and staring at nothing, glazed over, while John stood waiting for him to get up.
Blood quickly soaked the ground around the would-be robber’s head, and John knew he wasn't getting up. He relaxed. Then he walked over, bent down, and grabbed the knife. He wiped the blade on the dead robber, and put the knife safely in a side pocket of his backpack. Then he went on, hoping the road would lead him out of the burning city.
Joe
Joe sat in his office, inside the repaired building that housed him and Cecilia, his formal office, a small library, and a large meeting room. The building had been damaged by the earthquakes that followed the impacts, but it was one of those which only needed minor repairs. It was nice to be able to use this building instead of hunkering down in the command center down in the shelter. Besides, this way he’d be closer to everything that happened, and easier to reach for the myriad of people who needed his attention.
He enjoyed sitting here, peering out his window, watching the bustle outside. His health wasn’t what it had been, but although he tried not to exert himself too much, he never let it impinge on his mood. There was an air of optimism in the valley; he could see it in every face. The sleet had been replaced by snow, and he knew it wouldn't let up for years. If the snow kept falling, it would soon cover the roofs. But they were prepared for this. Tunnels would be built within the snow and ice, and a small city was already being planned for and laid out, underneath the coming white blanket. Nobody knew how long it would last, but they were stocked to survive for years, decades if they rationed. Now he was reading a report from one of the ranger teams. He read about how they had patrolled the mountains to the west. Just like the other reports from what had been the west coast, this one was just as dreary. A few scattered survivors hunkered down here and there. Some would be headed this way, while others were unwilling to relocate. The rest of the world looked like it was mostly gone. What had once been California was now an archipelago that seemed to consist of uninhabited islands. No reports had been able to spot people there. In time, some might go there, and find a way to live on those islands, but for now no life remained in what had been the fifth largest economy in the world at one time.
His infopad bleeped. It was a call from the south gate. A gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts.
“We have a man here sir, who has been walking through the mountains. He claims it is important that you speak to him,” Joe sighed. Although they were well-stocked, they didn't have room for everyone, and refugees had been coming in on a weekly basis. They had already agreed they needed to prioritize. Essential personnel and children, those were the prioritized groups.
“What else did he say?” Joe asked
“He says he's a physicist.” The voice paused before it returned. “A nuclear scientist, to be precise. He said you would appreciate the distinction,” Joe frowned.
“Weapons?”
“Yes sir. He claims he might be able to get a normal reactor up and going as well, as long as it’s fairly close.”
Joe felt a sadness grow in his heart. So many turned up at the gates every day, desperately needing shelter; helpless souls, lost in this world, and the guards had to turn most of them away. There were too many to care for. And now, here comes a man who has made his living from the most horrible kind of weapons mankind ever conceived. Now he wants our help and he thinks we should let him in, instead of a child who has lost his parents, a doctor who can save lives, or soldier, who can protect the displaced, Joe thought, knowing that was only part of the picture.
“He said something about thinking of the future. Something about our future survival.”
Joe nodded, although the one on the other end couldn’t see. He already knew his answer. It felt wrong, but this wasn't the time to just feel, it was also time to think.
“What's his name?” Joe croaked.
“Dr. Edward Walker, sir.”
For the first time today, Joe felt really tired. He would meet this man, to see if he was the real deal. If this man could in fact, have an important role to play in the future, Joe would let him in. If he was all hot air, Joe would not hesitate to put him straight out again.
“Okay, let him through. I’d like to talk to him.”
John
Hundreds of tents lined the countryside around the farm, where FEMA had established the refugee processing center. It was just north of the city, far enough to be out of sight, and guarded by several heavily armed soldiers. As he talked to the people there, John learned that there were several such facilities throughout the parts of the country where people had survived Impact. But even though they had provisions to care for people at the moment, they would quickly run out. That was why FEMA was directing groups of refugees in all directions every day. Nobody was allowed to stay here for longer than a week.
John picked up some news on the impacts as well. He learned of the Pacific impact, which had caused a tsunami that had flooded the entire west coast, killing millions. Then the Northwestern land impact, up in Canada, had caused an earthquake that crumpled up much of California, leaving most of the state underwater. What everyone was discussing though, was the big continental impact, which had taken place somewhere between the Midwest and the Appalachians, causing not just a huge impact crater, but also giant earthquakes that had rearranged the entire topography of the country. A huge rift was now stretching from deep inside the Canadian border and all the way south to the Gulf of Mexico, a deep canyon with elevated lands on both the east and west bank, dividing the Continent into two separate parts. The rift lay east of where the Mississippi river had run, and all around there was nothing but wasteland. Also, scattered throughout the hardest earthquake-stricken areas were the remains of nuclear reactors, spewing radioactivity and contaminating the surrounding areas.
But even though the entire continent lay in ruins, groups of people went out on a daily basis in every direction, searching for safety and a place to survive the hard times they all knew were coming.
The second day, he finally managed to talk to one of the employees at the facility, after standing in line for three hours.
“Look. I know you must have some sort of records. The names are Melissa, Nathaniel and Karen Rawlins. Melissa is my wife. She’s all alone with Karen and little Nate, so I really need you to check into whether they have been here or not,” John said to the clerk. The tired-looking woman just shook her head.
“I'm sorry sir, all the computers are down, and we only have the paper records. I cannot give you those,” she said.
“You don't understand, ma’am, I really have to reach them. And I’m pretty sure they must have been here,” John said, as calmly as he could.
“I'm sorry sir,” she replied, a desperate look on her face. John saw that she wanted to help him, she was just over-worked and he knew he’d have to help her along.
“Look, I might be of assistance to you. I can take a group with me, right now if you’d like. I’m former military. Just check for me, please?”
The clerk looked at him, hesitantly. Then she got up out of her chair. “Okay, I will go and check. You will take a group, and leave as soon as I have your answer. Okay?” she said.
“Of course.”
The woman walked over to the back of the room, where file cabinets lined the wall. She searched for the letter R, and once she found it, she opened one of the drawers. She flipped through the documents, mumbling something to herself.
“Right, there is this,” she said, stopping to have a closer look at one of the papers for a moment, before she put it back into the cabinets and closed it. Then she returned to John.
“It seems they were here just a few days ago, before they headed west. They were in a group of perhaps four others. You may catch up with them if you are quick.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” John said, relief flowing through him. He wanted to hug the poor clerk.
“Ma’am, I would like to leave as soon as possible.”
The woman smiled, and came out from behind the counter. “Come with me,” she said. He followed her out the door, leaving the long line of people behind.
“There is a group getting ready as we speak. You go with them, and find your family,” she said.
John didn't hesitate for a second.
John
John didn't really want to travel with a group. He knew he could move faster alone. And yet, it was a trade-off: information on where his wife and children had gone, in return for taking a group with him. He had made a promise, and a promise was no small thing to him.
Besides, out there, there would be strength in numbers, and they would be armed. With all the dangers in the wild, he could see real value in that. So perhaps being in a group wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. He just hoped he would be put in a group with other capable people.
After the clerk had directed him to the group, she walked back to the farm. John walked toward the group standing underneath an improvised tarp cover, just as they were getting ready to leave. One of the FEMA officers standing next to the group waved him over and gave him a backpack. He already had one, but the new one looked like it could carry more, and it looked more comfortable. John took a few cans of food, his blanket, his knife, and a couple water bottles, and put them in the new pack. Then he replenished with more food from a stack of cans beside the officer, a sleeping bag, a tarp, and a fuel cell. The FEMA officer handed him a pistol and a spare magazine. He checked the gun to make sure it was loaded, and that the safety was on.
“You know how to handle this thing, right?” the officer said. John nodded as he put the gun and the spare magazine in his pockets. Then he approached the others.
A small family, who looked like outdoorsy types, were the first to greet him. Tom and Vera and their seventeen-year-old son Matt carried their backpacks easily, and Tom held his rifle with quiet confidence.
“We heard about this place out west,” he said, “need to be quiet about it though, since the guy who set it up has been at the top America’s most wanted list for the last four years. Former senator, and the head of the Exodus project. Heard about it through a friend. We were on our way there when we got held up by fighting to the north.”
John remembered the dying man in Boulder, and his story about the refuge out west. He wished Derek had stayed with him. Now, perhaps they would meet again, in Buchanan’s refuge.
Next was the man who introduced himself as Ricardo, a local policeman from Denver.
“We passed Denver on our way to Boulder,” John said.
The policeman nodded somberly. They both knew Denver was no more.
“I was on my way there, when it happened,” Ricardo said. “The earthquake swallowed half the city. The rest is nothing but burned out rubble.”
The final member of the group was a nurse from outside Boulder. She looked nervous, but smiled as they shook hands. She introduced herself as Hillary, but other than that she didn’t speak much. John sympathized. Like so many others, she had probably seen more than she could handle. That tended to do some damage to people, emotionally.
Half an hour later, they were on their way following a dirt road headed west. In the distance were rolling hills covered in slush, and John knew they would have to cross into the mountains in a few days.
They had a long and hard trek ahead of them, but at least he knew his family was alive, for now. No matter how much he thought about the hardships ahead, his newfound smile never faltered.
Ed
Once inside the fence, Ed was lead to a military vehicle that took him from the gate to the valley proper. The drive took half an hour. He was amazed at the size of it all, and wondered once again how any of this could have been accomplished by a man who had been labeled America’s most wanted criminal. They drove up to a large building that lay a bit above the valley floor. Most cabins were half-covered in snow already, but this building stood out, making it apparent that this was where the founder of this place people called Buchanan’s refuge would be found.
Once inside, Ed was led into a large, but austere, study. Once alone, he sat down. The place was clean and smelled of old books, leather, and coffee. Ed hadn’t had coffee for a long time.
“I assume you are Dr. Walker,” a man said as he entered the room. He extended his hand.
“I’m Joe Buchanan. Formerly a senator, but I guess we both know there’s no Senate anymore.”
Ed got to his feet and shook the man’s hand. He noticed the ex-senator had a firm grip. “Pleasure, Sir. Just call me Ed,” he said.
“So, Ed. You don’t have to answer why you came here. We both know the answer to that, as we both know the chances for survival out there. Well, you probably know a whole lot more about it than I do,” Joe said, as he sat down behind his desk. He looked straight at Ed above his reading glasses.
Ed considered his answer, while noticing that Joe Buchanan looked tired. He had to be in his sixties, if not older. Building and running this place seemed to have taken its toll. “Ahem, you might have heard that I used to work in…” Ed began, but Joe waved him off.
“Yes, yes, nuclear weapons development, I know. And maybe this will be helpful some day.” Joe took off his glasses, and closed his eyes. “But, Dr. Walker, Ed, I need to hear why you think I should let you in, and say no to another; a mother, a father, a child. We cannot help everyone, and that is, it will always be my biggest regret.”
Ed spoke carefully, deliberately. “I know what you must be thinking. Why not allow another medical doctor who cures people? Whereas my profession...but imagine ten years from now. How many more could you save if you had nuclear power? And twenty or thirty years more. How large an area could you have made habitable again by then? And think of the increase in population? And what if—try to imagine a hundred years from now—what if someone else survived Impact and built another community. It might be a thousand kilometers away, and of no significance to you right now. But in a hundred years, make no mistake, all that will change. Only that community, a thousand kilometers away might have taken a very different course. Totalitarian, power hungry, sinister, paranoid. That other community might consider your prosperous community a threat. They may even decide to eliminate that threat, and then where would you stand? Are you certain your brave men and women could fight them off, when your existence depended on it? Or would that other community prove to be stronger and annihilate everything you’ve built, everything you dreamed of?” Ed paused. He knew he had to grind it in, to make sure the senator understood what was on the line. This wasn’t just about Ed Walker; it had never been. It was about what kind of world would come after.
“What if you, today, let a nuclear scientist through the gates? In time, that man might teach others, and they again would teach a new generation. Given time and careful development, your situation when that other community strikes might be completely different.” Ed noticed Joe Buchanan nodding unconsciously. He just had to press on a little more, make him come to the right conclusion.
“Senator, you’re building a future here. A new beginning. This world has been turned into a wasteland, and what you’re doing is admirable. Now, let me help you make sure your work will not be in vain. Who knows what the future holds? All I know is that this—all that you are building here—it’s for the good. It’s something worth protecting. So please, let me help you protect it.”
Ed watched as Buchanan considered his options. He thought he could see the conflicting thoughts plain on the senator’s face. The thought of bringing nuclear weapons into the world again. The possibility that everything might one day prove to be in vain, once a ruthless and stronger community comes along. Even the possibility that someone else, somewhere, might let someone with Ed’s qualifications in, if this community didn’t. Or that someone already had nuclear weapons, stored deep within the Earth for safe keeping until the day they decided to bring them back. The long-term implications of decisions made today. Finally, Joe gave him a quick nod, before rising from his chair. Then he walked up to him and extended his hand.
“All right, Ed. You’ve convinced me. Welcome aboard.” They shook hands, and then Joe walked out before Ed got a chance to say anything. Ed slumped back in his chair, relief washing over him. He realized Joe Buchanan was the most impressive man he’d ever met, and then and there he made a promise to himself. He would do anything to help this community survive the long winter and what lay beyond. The future of the inhabitants of Buchanan’s refuge would be very different because of this day.
John
The journey west had begun on an optimistic note, and John felt good about the people who surrounded him. It was nice to know that someone had his back, even though he missed Derek. Everyone seemed to want to help each other out; everyone shared the burden. But on the second day something happened, and John knew from that point things weren't quite as good as they had seemed at first.
They had just settled down for a midday meal when John heard angry shouts behind him. He turned around, and saw Tom looming over his son, Matt, shouting curses and beating him over the head. The boy was trying to protect himself from his father’s blows, and John noticed he seemed to know what he was doing. This wasn’t the first time, John realized.
“Jesus Christ boy, haven't I told you enough times to zip up your goddamned pockets? To lose an entire pack of ammo like this...are you stupid or something?” John was about to jump in to put the man in his place, when something blurred in his peripheral vision, and Ricardo, the cop, came down on the angry father. He dragged him away from his bruised son, and pushed him into the wet ground, restraining his right hand.
“Stop this right now! What the hell is wrong with you?” Ricardo shouted. John noticed Vera standing idly by, as if nothing had happened. He walked over to the poor kid.
“You all right?” he said to the boy, while checking out his bruises. Not too bad, but the look in his eyes was terrible. John had seen it before; this was a kid who had been beaten so many times he thought it was normal. Matt stared at him blankly, but didn't speak.
John looked over at Vera, who hadn’t moved. Her expression was blank, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. This was nothing new, neither to her nor to her son. He looked over at Tom, who seemed to be calming down. Ricardo released Tom’s arms and stepped away from the man. John didn't speak, since Ricardo spoke for them both.
“If I ever see you do that again, you will get a taste of your own medicine,” Ricardo spat.
“He lost a whole pack of ammo, and I’ve told him so many times to zip up his pockets. He has to learn somehow,” Tom said, trying to explain himself, but to no avail.
“He's a kid,” Ricardo said, effectively shutting the man up. There was nothing else to say, and now that everyone seemed to have calmed, they all went about their business. John eyed Tom sideways, disgusted.
Hillary and Vera prepared their meal. Nothing fancy, just a can of artificial meat, some beans, and a can of sliced pineapple. Ricardo put on a pot of clean water, and they all shared their coffee from a single cup.
An hour later they were on their way, headed west once more. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Still, something had changed. John could see from the looks Tom sent Ricardo that this was not over.
John
On the sixth day after leaving the FEMA camp, the landscape began changing. They followed a narrowing track that led straight into the mountains ahead of them. Snow covered everything now, so all they had to go by was the map. John had studied the map in detail, and he knew they were entering an area with deep ravines, where a fall would be deadly. And since the snow obscured the path, including any treacherous cracks or unsteady overhangs, they had to be very careful. They decided to tie themselves together so that if one of them fell the others would be able to drag the person up again. Since John had his military experience and was an experienced outdoorsmen, he took the lead. John thought it was a good thing, since he was also the most experienced with the map. Nobody except the military had used paper maps for years, with GPS embedded in practically everything. And with the weather worsening, knowledge of the map would be even more important. Ricardo would stay at the rear, since they agreed the strongest man should stay back in case his strength was needed to pull someone up. After moving slowly in heavy snowfall for three hours, carefully treading to avoid cracks, John heard shouting from the back of the line. He felt a tug on the rope and lost his balance. He fell to his knees, and turned around to see the others lying flat on the ground.
“What happened?” he shouted. Then he saw Tom straining to hold the rope, while Ricardo dangled helplessly below.
“He fell. Shit, he’s too heavy!” John could see Tom was trying to drag Ricardo back up again, to no avail.
“Hold on. We´ll do this together. Just hang on till I get there,” John said.
“I can't, he's too heavy,” Tom shouted.
John crept past Hillary, and as he nudged himself past Matt, when he saw the knife in Tom's hand. “What the hell?” he shouted.
“He's too heavy. He will drag us all down,” Tom screamed, a shrill voice piercing the ever-present howl of the wind. From below, John heard the desperate pleas from Ricardo, as Tom put the knife to the rope, and began sawing.
“Stop it! Tom, we can do this. Just hang on for a few more seconds, and I'll be there. Tom, please,” John said.
As John reached Tom, the knife cut through the final threads. Tom fell backwards and landed in the deep snow. John lunged forward only to watch Ricardo plummet toward the ground far below.
“Oh Tom, what have you done...” John whispered, never taking his eyes from Ricardo.
The wail from below lasted only for a few more seconds, as the police officer plunged to his death. The silence afterward was deafening. John blinked several times, and then he slowly turned toward Tom, who was lying on his back in the snow.
“You bastard,” John whispered, “You killed him.”
Tom sneered. “I didn't have a choice. A few more seconds, and I would have plunged myself. No way you guys would have been able to get us both up,” he said, voice shaking.
John restrained himself. They needed the strength of numbers. Tom was a pathetic sonofabitch, but he had nevertheless shown himself capable, when not beating up his son, or letting someone fall to their death...
For a split second, John seriously considered kicking him over the cliff. Then he sat down in the snow next to him. They had already lost one, no use in loosing two. When John spoke to him, his voice was pure ice.
“You will pay for this. But right now I need you. Make no mistake though, you need me as well. For now, we’ll stick together.”
Ed
A month had passed since Ed entered Buchanan's refuge. He was sitting in the former senator’s library. The building and surrounding area were completely covered in snow, but tunnels connected every functional building to a larger network of tunnels that converged in a main gateway that led all the way to the entrance of the underground shelter.
“It is more than forty kilometers away, and you have to travel through deep snow burdened by all that heavy gear. Besides, laying a cable right now will be awfully difficult,” Joe said.
Ed cocked his head. “Well, that’s true. Still, my last inspection showed that it looked relatively unharmed, and the techs over there confirmed it. There were no leaks, and the core is intact. Seems all the protective measures were successful. I know I can get it started again, safely.”
They were discussing the nuclear power plant south of the valley. Once, it had provided electricity for thousands, but prior to Impact it had been shut down, to reduce the risk of contamination. A few of the techs who had been working at the plant had remained on site to minimize the damage and look after everything. Ed had spoken to them a few days ago, when he and a small team of soldiers, including Deacon Frost, had walked there, through the deep snow, to assess the situation. If they could make the plant operational again, it would be of huge value to them. They had enough power stored to last through the long winter, or rather, as long as they expected the long winter to last. But Ed argued that in the long term they would need the reactor, because once the snow melted, having the plant up and operational would boost production in every way.
“So, let me just make sure I’ve got this right. You are saying that the plant can remain operational, even if it gets completely covered by snow and ice, and that having it through the long winter can mean that we won’t just survive, but prosper, right?” Joe said.
“That's what I'm telling you.”
“Okay, I will think about this.”
“Just don't think too long.”
Ed and Joe were quickly becoming friends. Ed was surprised about the friendship, since Joe had seemed skeptical about his former work, but they found that they had very good chemistry. They both held the same long-term view, which permeated their way of thinking, and they both knew that to secure the future they had to make some difficult choices.
“So, once the long winter ends, what will we be up against?” Ed asked, changing the subject.
“Well, obviously we don’t know exactly yet, but it seems there are scattered groups of survivors spread out all over the continent. The west coast was completely ruined by the Pacific impact and the following tsunami, and when the San Andreas opened up...California is history, we know that much. And the Northwest land impact in Canada all but devastated everything from Oregon to Alaska. There are several groups of survivors in the Midwest, but the earthquakes, the fires, and the changing topography make it difficult to believe many of them will survive the long winter. It also cut this country in half. The resulting rift now stretches from the Arctic, or at least up in northern Canada somewhere, and all the way south to the Gulf. In the east, the damage from the tsunamis combined with the great Continental impact killed most people. There are small groups of survivors, here and there, and if any of them survive the long winter, we expect them to be absorbed, once President Andrews and his people come out their Appalachian shelter.”
“So it is possible that only two major holdouts survived in all of North America? Andrews and us?”
“Yes, well those are the largest and best prepared for the long winter and what comes after. There are a few smaller holdouts in Eastern Canada. Québec seems to have fared reasonably well, so there might be some pretty large groups up there. I don't think they are as well prepared as we are. Impossible to know if they will survive the long winter, to be frank.”
Joe got up from his chair, and paced the floor. He looked troubled. Ed was about to ask, when Joe stopped and looked at him. “I remember when you got here. I was ready to kick you out. I didn't need a nuclear scientist, especially not a weapons specialist.”
Ed lowered his head. He remembered his desperate trek through the mountains, and how he had lost hope so many times, only to find that even in the most dire of circumstances, there is always a sliver of light, always something to hang on to. He remembered a good man, who showed him that humanity, even in the darkest hour, could still show kindness. He remembered almost dying, only to be saved by an old woman, whom he would most likely never see again. And he remembered coming here, and almost being turned away.
“You told me that we had to think of the future,” Joe said, interrupting Ed´s thoughts.
“With Andrews placed in his Appalachian shelter, probably stocked with weapons, ammunition, supplies to last forever, I can see a real possibility that an enemy might, in time, rise in the east. So how do we prepare? How do we rebuild fast enough? Because that is what we have to do, if we are to be prepared, once Andrews reemerges and begins to expand.” Ed watched Joe begin pacing again, deep in thought. Neither of them spoke for a minute or so. Then Joe stopped. He looked straight into Ed's eyes, and gave him a quick nod.
“You shall have your plant.”
John
Three days had passed since Ricardo's death. They had trudged along, but nobody wanted to be tied together anymore, like they had been. So now, if one fell, nobody would be able to save him or her. But no one would be dragged along either. Better this way, John thought.
He still didn't trust Tom. The man had shown himself to be a child-beating coward, and in John's view, he had murdered Ricardo. Still, he kept it to himself. Hillary, capable enough in so many ways, was too weak to be of any use in confronting Tom, and Vera and Matt were both victims of Tom's abuse.
John kept to himself, and right now he lay in this one-man tent, his gun never far away, just in case. He started awake from the shrill sound of screams not far away. He got out of his sleeping bag, and put on his boots, before he unzipped the tent’s entrance and stepped outside.
He had waited for something like this to happen, but what he saw still shocked him. Hillary's tent was cut to ribbons, and there was blood everywhere. Tom stood with a knife still dripping over the dead body of the nurse. When John exited the tent, Tom turned around and grinned.
“There's too much dead meat in this group. I intend to get my family through this, no matter what, and we need all the supplies we can get,” Tom said.
“You are insane,” John said. Tom just grinned even wider. “So this is it then. I'm next?” John asked. His voice sounded much calmer than he felt.
“That's right. You know too much. Besides, I don't trust you.”
John knew there was nothing he could do. He had his gun in his pocket, but by the time it would take to reach it, Tom would already be on top of him with the knife.
A sound off to the left called his attention, and he looked over at the big tent shared by Tom and his family. He saw Vera peering outside before she began screaming. Seconds later, Matt scrambled over her and through the opening.
“Dad, what is going on?” the boy said, as he rose to his feet. Vera followed, staring at the torn tent, the blood, and Tom with the bloody knife.
“Tom. What have you done?” she whispered, eyes wide.
“Easy now,” Tom growled. “As soon as I am done, it's just us four. We are better off without this lot.”
“No, Tom, no, no. Please stop!” she screamed stepping out of the tent, to stand shivering beside her son.
“You worthless bitch. What are you going to do? Don't you understand? I'm trying to save us. Us! Me, you, Matt.”
Vera screamed, as she lunged forward. Tom, obviously taken by surprise at his wife's outbursts and resistance, swirled around, as his wife bumped into him. John stood still, confused at the turn of events hesitated for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and brought out the gun. Tom and Vera were fighting, when suddenly a shot went off. The fighting stopped, and Vera stepped back from her husband. Tom fell back and sat in the snow staring at his gun for second, before he turned around. John looked over at Matt. The boy was still standing, even though blood was bubbling out from the entry wound in his chest.
“Oh, shit...” he said and went over to Matt, who dropped to his knees. The boy stared up at him, eyes going blank. So much blood. John tore open the boy’s shirt, and the pumping blood almost hit him. The kid was dying, and quickly. Vera came running, and shoved John aside shaking her son’s shoulders.
“Tom, what have you done? Oh, Matt. Oh my sweet boy Matt.” Vera turned slowly toward her husband, and in a split second she was back on her feet, scrambling towards him. John took another step back.
“Vera, don't!” John screamed, but it was too late. Tom fired two shots; one hit her in the chest and the other took her through her neck. Vera stopped dead in her tracks and went down without a sound. John, still holding his gun, raised it quickly and fired single shot. He hit Tom in the shoulder. Tom cursed as he fumbled with the gun. His arm had gone limp. John walked toward him, gun held out ready to fire. Tom seemed to realize he was out of options. His eyes flickered from his wife to his dead son and back. As realization dawned upon him, the man's eyes began to well up. When he looked back at John, anger had been replaced by grief and despair.
“Kill me then. I deserve it. Do it!”
John stopped just a few steps away from Tom, who was now shaking visibly. “Stand up,” he said. Tom stood slowly, moving as if in a trance.
“Now walk. Leave the gun, leave everything. Just walk.”
Tom didn't say anything, although his eyes were begging John to squeeze the trigger. John just stood still, waiting for the man to comply. Then Tom turned away and began walking back the way they had come. John knew he wouldn't last a day. Without anything but the clothes on his back, with no jacket, or tent, or anything, he would soon freeze to death. That was, unless he didn’t fall down one of the ravines first. John stood watching after Tom until he was out of sight. When he walked back to his tent, and began packing up everything. Dawn had come, so he hoisted up his backpack, and began walking west. Always west.
John
John was trudging through the deep snow, trying to keep track of his heading and whereabouts. Snow was falling thickly, and he could see no more than a few meters in front of him. He had hoped traveling as a group would be a good thing, but he had been wrong. It had turned out to be a disaster. What if he was wrong about Buchanan's refuge as well? What if they wouldn't take him in? What if his family had never arrived? What if there was no refuge at all? He shook his head. Too many questions, too easy to sink into despair. He needed his strength, and to be strong he needed hope.
He was running low on food, and by his estimates, he only had enough for a week left or so. If the bad weather didn't throw him off course, he would reach the refuge in a couple of days. That was, of course, if directions he’d been given back at the FEMA camp were correct.
He decided to stop earlier than he normally would, thinking he was likely to get lost in this weather. He wasn't making much progress right now anyhow. He put up his small tent, and powered up his fuel cell. Then he pulled off his shirt and socks, and hung them to dry. Soon the smell of warm soup filled the tent, making him realize how hungry he was.
He hadn't seen a single human being and no animals, except for a few birds, desperately migrating south, since he entered the mountains. It was as if every living soul had disappeared off the face of the Earth. He wondered if any of the big mammals would survive. Humans would. If they had a safe place to stay, enough food stored, and a source of water, they would be able to weather even a winter of several years. Most animals would die off quickly; especially those that required a great amount of food in order to survive. Smaller animals would probably be okay, as long as some small pockets of life and vegetation survived somewhere. But he had a feeling most of the mammals living in the wild were about to go extinct, and soon. He opened a can of fruit, and stared at it. As long as supplies such as this lasted, people would survive almost anything. Granted, the impacts and the aftereffects, and what he expected to be a very long winter, would decimate humans in great numbers. Probably already had. But mankind would survive.
John took one of the apricots from the can and put it in his mouth. Not long now. He’d have to decide whether to stay inside the tent, waiting for the weather to improve, which could take days. Longer, perhaps. Either that, or take his chances in the blizzard.
He ended up deciding to get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow he would start out again, trying to find Buchanan's refuge. If he didn’t find it in three days, he would hunker down in his tent again and wait. That way he would get closer, and in the event that he overshot the refuge, he wouldn't get too far. He knew the general direction and approximate distance, so he knew it was a matter of days. If the next few days went as he hoped, he might be reunited with his family by the end of the week. Or he’d be dead.
Joe
Joe sat snugly inside the armored personnel carrier, on his way to the north gate. A man had come to the gate, and Joe had wanted to talk to him. For months, refugees had come in from all directions, sometimes in big groups and sometimes just a small trickle. The last month though, even the trickle had stopped. So the guards at the gate had been surprised to see this lone man approaching, now that there didn’t seem to be anyone left alive out there. It seemed he had walked for a long time, but to no avail. The valley was full, so the guards had, after a brief interview, refused his request for entry, which had led to a tense situation. The man wouldn't take no for an answer. Guns had been displayed on both sides, but no shots had been fired. Yet. It wasn't the first incident where guns had played a part, but this was one where the guards had contacted Joe on their own initiative so he could try and settle the matter. When asked why, the guards had explained that the man was an engineer. They had a few engineers in the refuge, but this man also had a military background.
So Joe had agreed to come to the gate, remembering that if he hadn't agreed to talk when Ed Walker showed up, they wouldn't have a nuclear scientist among them now, with all the knowledge and know-how that entailed, not to mention the strategic value of such knowledge.
“All right sir, here we are,” the driver said, as the vehicle came to a halt.
Joe opened the side hatch, and jumped out. An armed escort followed him, a safety precaution that both Deacon and Cecelia had insisted upon. “Okay, let me speak to this Mr. Rawlins.”
One of the guards followed the man inside the gate, keeping a close watch over him. The man surrendered his gun to the guard before he was allowed over to where Joe stood, a few meters from the vehicle, rubbing his hands together, trying to keep warm. He should have donned something heavier then his mittens.
“Are you Senator Joe Buchanan?” Mr. Rawlins said.
Joe smiled. “That's me, although I'm not a senator anymore,” he answered.
Mr. Rawlins didn´t seem to find it funny. There was something tense about him. Joe watched as the man drew a deep breath before speaking. “John Rawlins,” he said and extended his hand. Joe took it. “My family might be here, sir. In fact, I was told they were headed this way. The guards refused to check for me. I need to know though. If they haven’t turned up here, I’ll be moving on.”
Joe cocked his head. “I expected you to argue for us to let you inside. I guess the guards told you we cannot take any more people,” he said.
“To be honest, sir, all I want is to know that my family will be okay. Could you please check it out for me?”
“What's your wife's name?”
“My wife’s name is Melissa. Melissa Rawlins,” John said, before adding “She’s an engineer as well.”
Joe took off his mittens, flexed his fingers in the biting cold, before he took out his tablet.
“Let me see here...” he mumbled, as his fingers flipped through the files containing the names of everyone presents in the valley. “Rawlins, Melissa...with Nathaniel and Karen. Yes, they are here,” he said, and watched relief wash over John’s face. Joe hadn’t really believed when John said so, but now he realized that all the man had cared about was the knowledge that his family would be okay. That his own safety wasn’t a concern at all.
“Will you let me see them before I leave?” John said, his voice trembling. Joe had a good look at this man, and saw the determination in his face, even though his voice failed him. He leaned on the vehicle and looked at his tablet again, reading the transcript from the guards’ interview with him. This was a man who had walked all the way from the government’s detention camps in the Arizona desert, through most of Colorado, and then all the way out here; more than eight hundred kilometers. And he did all this, through the aftershocks of the impacts, through sleet and deep snow, weathering blizzards and crossing mountains. This was a man who had survived the impossible. As Joe flipped through the file, he grew more and more impressed with this man. And then to learn that he was so completely selfless, so disregarding of his own safety, as long as his family was safe, was the final drop. Joe realized there were times when rules had to be broken. This was one such time.
“You have come far, and I guess you deserve a chance to see your family again,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, weighing the alternatives. Then he made a decision.
“We haven't let anyone inside for the last month or so. As you know, there is a limit to how many we can feed and shelter. And yet, here you come, with skills we’re going to need. I don't think there will be many more people coming in, now that winter is growing harsher by the day. In fact, I expect you to be the last addition to our population.”
John looked up. His eyes misted, but he blinked them clear, “Thank you sir. I am in your debt.”
“Alright then. I’m certain you will carry your own weight, and I bet both you and your wife will be of great use to us once this damned winter ends.”
Joe popped open the hatch. “So, John, would like you a ride?” he said, smiling.
“Sir?”
“Let’s go meet your family. I know what it's like, to be separated from your loved ones. So let’s not waste any more time and get moving, shall we?”