“CQ, CQ, CQ, this is K7JGR calling CQ on 7038 kHz. Is there anyone out there on 40 meters?”
Bradley stuck his head into the radio annex where Charlene was manning the radios and her husband, Jack performing his new role as a HAM radio operator while pretending to seek survivors elsewhere in the world. He gave Jack a thumb up gesture of approval and looked toward Charlene. “It is too quiet here. I will be at the south portal checking on the truck loadings.”
“Have a great ride, sir,” she responded, smiling as she turned her attention back to the radios.
“What makes you think that I’m going riding?”
“Duh! Could it be the cowboy boots, the western hat, or that shit-eaten grin on your face, sir?”
Bradley laughed and waved them off while heading out into the central tunnel.
Charlene spoke softly to her husband, Jack. “It is good to see him recovering from the loss of Stacey.” She scooted her chair back enough to see Mitchell working at the meteorological station. She glanced at the displays on the big screens and the outside radiation level reading before looking toward the MacBook Air computer where she saw the base camp link still offline while they relocated the computer on their end into the basement shelter to ride out the severe radiation conditions.
Bradley missed having the handcar at his disposal, but with the mountain having lost most of its north portal residents, the handcar, once operated by the teenagers now supported the livestock operations at the south portal. This was just one of the many changes to the routine of the mountain.
The mess halls now operated with a much smaller crew and closed after the evening meal. The guard detail had reduced in size, with the volunteer 24-hour paging system was now unmanned at night. Instead of almost continuous paging, it played soft music. He was considering integrating the paging and intercom system into the radio room at the War Room, now referred to as the IC or Intelligence Center.
Scattered along the five-mile tunnel length the people were loading supplies needed at base camp. At the quartermaster alcove, a truck sat loaded DVD movies, and other entertainment such as digitized books, and computer games.
The residents transferring to the base camp had taken with them their personal computers, iPads, and electronic entertainment devices. He noticed them loading spares of each into a truck.
Bradley walked the five miles through the tunnel alone with none of the usual residents greeting him. He noted the apparent lack of daily maintenance such as cleaning up cat poop. Seeing the cat poop activated his smell senses as he walked through unused areas where the smell of dust combined with that of cat urine.
Near the parked fuel transport trailers, the smell increased with the addition of petroleum odors, and closer to the animal kingdom, the long-familiar feedlot smell. He wondered if the tunnel had always stunk and he did not notice or did the scent become more noticeable with the absence of people. In any regard, he made a note to himself to do something about the cats roaming the unused portions of the tunnel.
He picked up the pace and dismissed the smell issue from his mind when he heard the crackling sounds of excited chickens trying to avoid capture and loading into pens for transfer to the base camp.
With communications with base camp temporally being down, and seeing everything under control, he did what Sp5 Charlene Dawson had precisely accused him of planning to do. With his weapon strapped across his back, he saddled a horse and headed out onto Jackass Flats, retracing where he and Stacey had ridden on the morning of her untimely death.
At the spot where they had sat and visited during the ride, he reined in the horse, sat in thought as he gazed across Jackass Flats. He scanned the perimeter toward the barren mountains to the west where at night the firestorm glow still reflected off the clouds along the West Coast on a clear night.
He twisted in the saddle to look back at the mountain, at the north portal at the external infrastructure from the tunnel’s construction days — mostly trailers that once housed the Rad-Safe personnel, a small medical clinic, and various offices.
Three doublewide trailers showed fire damage sustained during the attack upon the mountain by Sergeant Taylor’s army after the EMP and bombs. He recalled his people having to remove the skeletal remains of Taylor’s army who died from radiation exposure during the attack.
A pang of sorrow gripped his heart as he eyes settled on the south portal where he lost Stacey and the others. He swiftly replaced the unpleasant thought to watch the beehive of activity occurring as loaded trucks exited the portal and lined up for delivery of supplies to the base camp. He watched his people also hurrying to secure the greenhouses located just outside the portal opposite the corrals now occupied by the livestock housed inside the mountain.
The cattle, in particular, seemed to enjoy being out of the mountain happily. Bradley glanced for any sign of the El Nino storm building up to the west. He felt uncomfortable having the livestock unprotected, realizing now this being the reason for his feeling compelled to visit the south portal — concerns about the mountain’s supply of milk being especially susceptible to contamination by radioactive elements.
Having grown up on a ranch, Bradley knew about cattle. Early on after the EMP, he had ensured that the animals maintained normal day-night rhythms by installing electric lights in the shelter to reverse the cattle’s biological clocks and reduce the amount of heat and humidity present. Timer-controlled lighting had decreased cattle activity — turning the light intensity up when it was time for the cattle to feed, drink, and move around their confined quarters. Noise and the ungodly smell inside the tunnel was a factor that concerned the humans, but the animals showed little signs of discomfort to the chaotic life underground.
Looking back at the north portal, he envisioned moving the people into the existing trailers once the El Nino radiation threat ended and when they could return to the outdoors. With this thought in mind, he headed the horse back to the mountain where he wanted to tour the photosynthesis garden before returning to the IC to prepare his people for the storm building in the Pacific Ocean.
Basecamp
Same time
While Colonel Bradley found time to gallop around the desert on a horse, Governor Barlow certainly could not. On the other hand, she had something that he did not have. She had a modern cafeteria with real chairs and tables whereas he had wooden picnic tables jammed together in a solid rock alcove.
Like him, she enjoyed her coffee and was at the moment sipping on a cup while watching the soldiers from Kellahan’s signal section, and some of her distinguished engineers and scientists running coaxial cables and wires through the dining area for mounting television monitors on the walls. The same was occurring in a small room that she chose as her shelter office, and in various public basement areas. Rather than television, the monitors displayed the HD camera images from Mount Charleston and the wireless network repeater connecting the base camp with the outpost.
“Ma’am,” said Sergeant Frank’s son, Harry appearing at her side. “We have signal, and I can hook you up to the outpost using the laptop until we have the monitors online.”
Barlow turned and gave the young man a motherly smile. “Harry, that would be wonderful. Please do.” She watched him hurry to retrieve the computer with her thinking that this pimply-faced young man represented their future, a role model for what she hoped to produce from the limited selection remaining since the EMP.
“The data line is not hot in your office yet, and it is a mess with us stringing cable, so this is your best location for the present, ma’am,” he said when he returned to the computer. An image showing the weather screens sprung to view the moment he plugged in the cable. “We will soon have all of this wireless,” he explained while he hurriedly positioned the cable on the cafeteria floor to prevent anyone tripping over it. He sat down at her table, spun the computer screen before him, and said into the screen’s internal microphone, “Outpost, this is base camp. Outpost, this is base camp.”
The screen came to life with Jack Dawson’s face. “Outpost,” he said in acknowledgment.
“The governor for Colonel Bradley, please.”
“Just a moment.”
Harry spun the computer around to face Barlow and stood up. “The colonel will be right with you, ma’am.”
“Bradley,” Bradley said into the screen as he sat down. He saw Barlow was laughing.
“I wasn’t calling you, but since we are now connected, I will give you an update. My new administrative assistant sometimes becomes a bit overzealous,” she explained, still laughing. “Hmm. Am I seeing western attire today?”
He made a production of laying his hat in computer camera view. “Eat your heart out, Barlow. I just got in from a nice ride out on the flats. So you have a new AA?”
“It must be nice. Negative on the administrative assistant. I was joking. My helper was a bit overzealous with his initiating the call. I did not mean to call you yet. This young man is a nerd whizz that you overlooked. He says he can do the same as your guy on the iPhone face time. I can’t wait to get one of those gadgets in my purse.”
Bradley snorted. “Purse! You have not carried a purse in years, but I get your point. I assume that we will share technology.”
“You will. Tom, you should see what they are doing here in the shelter. We will be able to see you on monitors throughout the building. The same with the weather screens provided you allow us.” She turned serious. “Tom, a convoy of trucks will depart here in about two hours. Your suggestion regarding our hitting the grow houses hit pay dirt. We are sending a ton of supplies, even what you need for a hydroponic garden using nutrient solutions instead of soil. This includes dehumidifiers if the air becomes too damp. Sorry, boss, but we did not send any marijuana seeds.” She laughed. “Only because all the plants at the grow houses were dried out from lack of water.”
“Aw, shucks,” he drawled out in mock disappointment. “No rolling out some skins for wacky backy. Now you have ruined my day.” His raspy voice became serious. “Our people here have just about everything ready to do a swap when yours arrive. I think we will need to do another convoy to get you enough MREs for the storm’s duration should it decide to linger.”
“I planned a second trip anyway to deliver the people you wanted back to you. Major Schwartz wants to return with his family. With his being our former S-2, I think he will be of better use in your intelligence operations. One DOE nuke scientist wants to return, and I think you can use him. He is single. When I finish screening their qualifications, I hope to send you 24 VIPs, which includes family members. The kid doing the R&D on the smartphones wants to work for you as well if that is okay. Major Kellahan says he needs to keep the father here, so his leaving will split the family. Just in case, he is training other kids here on how to modify the smartphones.”
While they exchanged information, Bradley watched as Mitchell updated the weather chart. From the radio room, he heard Jack performing his hourly CQ transmission. “How many days?” Bradley mouthed. Mitchell held up four fingers.
“Charlie says we have four days before the storm. Will you be ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
The next two days found truckloads of supplies arriving from base camp and disappearing inside the mountain. The drivers parked the trucks, leaving it to the outpost personnel to unload. The driver then located a loaded truck parked outside the mountain and left in it to return to base camp. The last two left from the south portal carrying slightly over 2,000 chickens. Once the trucks departed with the chickens, the outpost residents hustled to move the livestock from the corrals and back into the mountain.
During the short summer period, the mountain’s cats, dogs, and Guinea hens were free to venture through the open portal doors where they roamed freely. With the storm approaching, the residents rushed to gather up and herd its animals and fowl back into the mountain. Despite the urgency, the challenge of herding cats, chickens, and Guinea hens back into the mountain became a sport among the children doing most of the work.
The sounds echoed across the flats of chickens squawking, ducks quacking, the adults sometimes cursing with laughter, and the juveniles loudly laughing and squealing in fun.
Each evening, the residents housed at both the portals usually ventured out near sunset to enjoy the transition from daylight to darkness, often staying out to view the stars appearing and the moon rising. Tonight they saw the first El Nino storm signs, light gray, fluffy, cotton-candy-like clouds drifting toward them from the west. They were storm watching when the outdoor lights automatically illuminated with the sun’s disappearance into the sunset.
Tonight the viewing seemed more somber. Everyone realized that this evening was on a countdown to another radioactive siege, the last night that they could enjoy being outdoors for no telling how long.
The fun stopped following the shooing in of the last chicken. Several lingered and watched in silence when the south portal door scraped across the concrete, and with a loud banking sound, clanked shut to protect the mountain from intrusion, this time a deadly storm rather than Muslim Brotherhood guns.
At the mountain, the Bronsons were returning from visiting the grave when they decided to let little Thomas continue to play while they observed the westerly clouds appearing over the horizon.
Sammie watched a cloud brush across the face of the moon. “Ray, how do you think this all began?”
He stared at the side of her face to see if she was kidding. “It began when someone flipped the fucking EMP switch.” His voice dripped with disgust and sarcasm.
She glanced at him and back to the moon. “No. I mean the universe. Was there a Big Bang and bingo, we have the universe? Do you believe in the Quantum theory?”
Ray continued staring at her and shook his head slightly in disbelief of her pursuing this line of thought. “You studied science. There is no dynamical reason why we cannot extrapolate the motion of bodies in the solar system back in time, far beyond four thousand and four BC, the date of the creation of the universe according to the book of Genesis. If the universe began that date, the dynamical laws that govern the universe are a direct intervention of God. You?”
Sammie remembered the years after the EMP strike where the Aurora lights danced through the heavens at night, its magnetic fields playing havoc with any attempts to find other survivors by radio. “I believe the laws of physics determined the way the universe began. Do you think the astronauts and cosmonauts starved to death in the International Space Station after the EMP?”
He frowned, trying to connect the space station to her opinion. He said nothing while waiting for her to continue. She did not pursue her line of thought. Instead, she changed the subject. “Ray, does it scare you being outside the mountain? I feel naked, insecure without having the mountain protecting me. No one can touch us inside the mountain.” She looked at little Thomas as she spoke.
“You are worried about your dad, Jer, and the rest of us remaining at the mountain, aren’t you?”
“You have seen the change in Dad since Mom died. I think he wants to be alone and rid himself of the responsibility of caring for all the people. Losing Mom has changed him — aged him. He is not near as vivacious and outgoing as before her death.”
“Hon, he is back doing what he loves and knows best. He has seen his share of combat and has earned the right to focus on advancement in military intelligence. Without that, our people face extinction by others, such as the Brotherhood and the specter of fanatics rampaging across the globe in the name of Islam, the fanatics who bomb, behead, murder, and honor-kill.”
“Have you noticed the hale around the moon? The storm must be getting close.” Out in the darkness, they heard someone announcing the portal locking down in ten minutes. Nearby, some of the residents were shooing a couple of roaming Guinea hens back inside.
Raymond stood and picked their child up. “It is night-night time, little guy, time for you and for your loony mother to hit the sack. Your mother is tired, and her mind is drifting all over the place.”
Inside the IC, Bradley and the others watched the radiation level slowly climb. The monitor for remote camera #5 displayed clouds beginning to hide the stars. The moon with lunar halos circling it remained visible with clouds now fleeting beneath. In the IC, Mitchell saw the radiation level nearing threat level and used the paging system to recall everyone back inside the mountain.
Sammie stopped just inside the portal and turned to watch as two soldiers closed the portal door. The rising radiation level still read in the safe zone, but they knew this would not be the case tomorrow.
With most military personnel now gone, one member performed fire watch at the south portal while the mountain slept. Tonight the responsibility lay with a rancher’s teenage daughter standing watch where once a squad of armed soldiers guarded the portal door entrances. At the north portal, the radio operator on shift performed this duty and that of CQ, charge of quarters. SP5 Jack Dawson was on radio duty tonight.
“Jack, the storm will hit tonight. Keep an eye on the interior radiation levels near the entrances in case we have a problem.”
“Yes, sir.” He looked toward Bradley’s dog patiently waiting for his master to bed down. “Sarge, you can stay with me tonight.” The poodle rebuffed him by trotting outside the alcove to wait for Bradley.
At base camp, the residents had also ventured outside the hospital building to observe the sunset and storm’s approach. They too knew that this meant the end of their first nuclear summer. The hospital, being in the desert with scarce water resources, had no grassy areas for the residents to enjoy. Enclosed courtyards once containing such internal amenities now held only plants long dead for lack of watering.
The hospital parking lots still contained vehicles parked there when the EMP struck. The cars were no longer shiny as before the EMP. The harsh winter years had apparently taken a heavy toll on the vehicle exteriors. Many displayed huge dents caused by falling ice, sandblasted paint from high winds carrying debris, and nasty dust residue coating everything.
Even with no vehicular traffic, cracks and potholes now appeared throughout the parking lots. Streetlights that once illuminated the entire facility stood as dark, menacing objects in total darkness. The dead landscape cast a sick look on everything, including the base camp building.
Earlier the parking lot had echoed with the screams and squeals of children playing hide and seek among the abandoned vehicles. With the coming of darkness, the residents returned inside the hospital, most tired from the last few day's frantic pace to prepare for the storm’s arrival.
Tonight, everyone was bunking down in the basement shelter, expecting the storm to arrive while they slept. Few expected their first night in the basement shelter to be at best indescribable.
Each couple or family now had two areas, one being their own equipped room in the hospital wards, and the other a hospital bed hastily set up in the former hospital basement's warehouse area. Unlike their alcoves at the mountain, in the shelter, they lacked separation — the entire population bedding down in a dormitory setting with no privacy whatsoever. Making things worse, they shared the dormitory with their pets.
The hospital beds lined in rows with four-foot separation between them. No other furniture existed, so personal items lay scattered beneath beds that served well as seating. Supplies moved to make room for the beds brought in from vacant wards lay stacked ceiling high along the warehouse area’s south and east walls. Other such places in the basement now contained food and other supplies trucked in from the mountain.
Using the stairs, the residents entered the shelter and gathered in the cafeteria’s dining area. Activity in the kitchen was almost frantic with the residents cleaning to make it functional before the storm. They were still removing spoiled food lying in the kitchen for the past four years by hauling the dried crud out in wheelbarrows while others scrubbed and sanitized the freezers, storage areas, and grills.
The basement contained a hospital laundry along with two large latrines near the stairwell and elevators. In a small utility room, two electricians rushed to complete wiring the elevators and basement electrical lines to a nuclear-powered generator brought in from the mountain. Meanwhile, the debris from the kitchen continued to pile up outside the elevator, waiting for disposal outside the building. Those at base camp could count on eating breakfast MREs when they awoke.
Barlow could have placed her bed in her office. Instead, she chose to set an example by sharing the others’ hardships in the common sleeping area. To her, rank did not confer privilege or give power. It imposed responsibility.
This responsibility weighed heavily on her tonight as she worked late in her little office in the shelter, conducting meetings on issues as they occurred, organizing tasks, and assigning responsibility to those she chose to lead various tasks. She had noted only a few of the VIPs pitching in to prepare the basement for occupancy. Two of the doctors had helped clean the kitchen, but few of the sheltered ones had offered to help. They felt sheltered at the mountain, but at the base camp, it was supposed to be different. They were about to learn that there were no sheltered ones at base camp.
As Bradley did at the mountain, Barlow detailed the radio operators to act as fire watch that included their maintaining watch on the radiation detection monitors installed beside the radio and the camera monitors.
Near the center bunking area, someone had taken the initiative to set up a computer and projector to show a DVD movie on the wall. Barlow waited until the film ended before signaling the operator on fire watch to turn out the overhead lights, leaving a few night-lights illuminated for safety.
Sleep in the shelter did not come easy. Having slept on Army cots for the past four years, many, especially the children, found sleeping in a soft bed strangely distracting. They called their pets, whispered to each other, all out of nervousness and confusion about their strange surrounds. They complained to their parents about a sibling crowding them or taking up all the cover — doing everything but going to sleep.
The children finally settled down, their sounds replaced by sounds of young people whispering and making love. When that eventually ceased, the snoring began. Meanwhile, radioactive particles of dust began to stir along the West Coast as the first El Nino winds made shore, a forewarning of the fierce lightning and rain to follow.
****