Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (7 page)

***

Daniel and Smith combined their staffs to rework Bill H.R. 285016. The vote for Jones’ bill was in less than two hours.

Beth was hounding the staff, driving them forward like the handler of a dog sled, pushing the interns past their own capabilities.

The plan was to have Smith speak before the vote to propose his bill. If H.R. 285016 could pass, then they knew Jones's bill would get downvoted. This bill would be the light in the darkness for everyone to rally behind.

“Do you still have the research from the chemicals?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, it should be in our files somewhere. Why?” Smith asked.

“What's the biggest reason the bill didn't pass last time?”

“Jones introduced some very questionable evidence that the purification process caused cancer and health concerns. I had dozens of scientists debunk it, but it was no use. Once everyone heard the ‘c’ word, it was over.”

“People didn't understand the science. It was too wordy. We need to take that research and break it down, make it easier to understand. Then we print those few pages out and give them to the representatives. I think it'll help the confidence level when everyone votes.”

“It's smart,” Beth said. “We could give those FBI lab techs a call and have them work something up. They did a good job explaining it to you.”

“Make it happen,” Smith said.

Beth smacked one of the staff members on the shoulder, barking at him to dial a number. Smith pulled Daniel aside and out of the conference room. He closed his office doors, giving the two of them time to talk in quiet.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Daniel?” Smith asked.

“No, thank you. I'm fine.”

Smith gestured to the chairs circling a small oval table. Daniel leaned back, letting the soft cushions ease the tension of his neck and back.

“I can't thank you enough for what you did today,” Smith said.

“You made a very compelling speech,” Daniel said.

“I've been known to have a few well-placed words come together every now and then, but even I knew that it was a long shot. It would have taken more than just me to change your mind. So what was it?”

“I reversed it. I thought that if it were my family in the Southwest, how would I want my congressman to vote? I would be furious if Jones's bill passed.”

“Well, that decision just started the process of saving the lives of millions of people.”

“Truth is, I was just thinking of three.”

“Your family will be okay, Daniel. I know the ties you have with Jones. I'll make sure nothing happens to them.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel wasn't sure if Smith would be able to make good on that promise, but it was one he let himself believe. Doubt was a commodity he couldn't afford right now.

***

“We have a problem,” Beth said.

Both Daniel and Smith were on their way out the door when Beth stopped them.

“What is it?” Smith asked.

“We have the bill ready, but I went to check the patent office for the purification process just to make sure we had everything covered in the new bill.”

“And?” Daniel asked.

“It's gone.”

“What?” Smith asked.

“There isn't even a record of it being on file. No documents, no financial trail, nothing. It's like it was never there.”

“That's impossible,” Daniel said.

“Not if Jones knew someone in the patent office,” Smith replied.

“If Jones had something to do with the disappearance of the patent, then this bill will be a bluff that he'll call in front of everyone in Congress. We'll lose this fight before it begins,” Daniel said.

“What about the inventor? Do we still have his information?” Smith asked.

“The number's disconnected, and he's no longer at the address we have listed,” Beth answered.

“Track him down. Text me on my cell when you find him,” Smith said.

The Land Cruiser's engine whined, straining to climb the thick sand hill. Brooke shifted gears, giving it some gas.

“C'mon, baby,” Brooke whispered.

The SUV peeked over the top of the hill, and as it rolled downhill, Brooke downshifted.

Brooke checked the compass on the dash, making sure they were still on course. Her eyes moved from the compass to the fuel gauge. The short orange line teetered on the large “E.” They were averaging forty miles per hour and had been traveling for roughly an hour and a half. They were close. All she needed was to push it just a little farther.

Sand splashed across the windshield from a burst of wind. The grains scraped the glass and paint of the vehicle. The sun beating down, even in the protection of the cruiser, was incredibly intense. Brooke kept the A/C on low to avoid overheating the engine. The temperature outside read one hundred and ten.

In the distance, she could see the shimmer of the old solar cells.

“We're almost there,” Brooke said.

The engine coughed, causing all of them to jerk forward from the sudden stop in acceleration. The cruiser continued to struggle, inching forward in brief bursts of speed before slowing to a crawl.

“No,” Brooke whispered.

The fuel gauge hit its final resting place at the bottom of the massive “E.” Brooke pressed her foot down on the gas defiantly, trying to will the cruiser forward. But the steering wheel stiffened as the car gave its last push. They rolled a few more feet in the sand, but the cruiser didn't have anything left to give.

“What happened?” Emily asked.

“We're out of gas,” Brooke said.

“Are we close?” John asked.

Brooke pointed straight ahead to the shimmering in the distance she had seen moments ago.

“You see that?” Brooke asked. “That's where the solar station is.”

It was easily a four- to five-mile hike. Not something she thought her daughter could make, especially in this heat. And she couldn't leave Emily here alone. John would have to stay with her.

“I'll hike there and bring the fuel back,” Brooke said.

“You're going there alone?” John asked.

“You and your sister will stay here with the car and supplies. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours.”

Brooke opened her door and stomped through the sand to the back of the cruiser to grab her pack. She dumped out only what she needed for the trip there and back. A few pieces of food, some water, and simple first aid supplies. It was dangerous not taking at least twenty-four hours of supplies with her, but she knew the fuel would be heavy on the way back, and she didn't want to add to the burden. She zipped up the main compartment of her pack, and John edged around the corner of the car.

“Mom, it's a long walk,” John said.

“You need to stay here and look after your sister.”

Brooke pulled the 9mm Ruger LCR double action revolver out of her waistband and handed it to her son. He held it awkwardly. She walked around behind him and adjusted his grip.

“Thumbs over thumbs. Don't place your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot. And when you do shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger, don't pull it,” Brooke said. “I don't think you'll run into any troublemakers out here, but I want you to have it just in case. If I'm not back by sundown, then something's wrong. I want you to wait here until tomorrow morning, then take your sister to the relay station, but come at it from the north.”

“Mom,” John said.

“It'll be a little bit of a longer walk, but you'll be in a better position to scout any trouble. There used to be a satellite phone there. Try and find it and call Aunt Amy. Let her know where you are.”

“Mom.”

“She'll try and get somebody to come and get you. I know she will. You'll have enough water and food to last you the week.”

“Let me go with you. I can help.”

“Your help is needed right here. Our lives depend on what's in this car. Without it, we're in serious trouble.”

Brooke kissed him on the forehead, receiving a mixture of sweat and sand on her lips. She wrapped Emily in a hug and told the two of them to watch out for each other. Brooke swathed her head in a shemagh, protecting her face from the sun and sand. The cloth combined with her sunglasses covered her entire head. She adjusted the straps on her back, making sure they were snug to reduce chafing, and began the long, hot trudge to the station.

***

Despite the sun lowering behind her, it was still brutally hot. Brooke's skin felt like it was melting under her clothes. But even with the heat, she was making good time. The long days working on solar cells had allowed her body to adjust to the high temperatures. Even though it was unpleasant, it was still bearable. She was mindful to not use more than half her water on the way there.

Brooke walked through the fields of solar panels, most of which were peeling and corroded from neglect. The engineering feat that surrounded her had once powered cities, towns, and suburbs when the water from the Colorado Basin flowed freely down from the Rockies before the shortages. Everything seemed to have snowballed over the past six years.

When Congress started restricting the water supply, it impacted businesses, which hurt the economy, which drove people out of the area, which meant fewer buildings to power, which meant fewer solar cells to maintain and install.

Brooke's engineering firm had been laying people off every year for the past three years. She had managed to stay on board only because she was the best engineer in her division. She could do the work of four individuals in half the time.

She loved her job. The idea of being able to harness the power of the sun above them for their own personal uses gave her purpose. The solar cells she helped design and make came from the power of her mind and were put into use by the efficiency of her hands. She could feel her heart ache as she walked through the graveyard around her.

The main building was just up ahead. She crouched low, hiding behind one of the cells, and scanned the perimeter. She looked for any signs that someone was already there, but it looked vacant.

The door was locked, which she expected, but she knew there was a tool shed around back with a very flimsy door.

Brooke's heel pounded into the door, sending vibration into both her body and the rest of the shed. On the third try, it finally cracked open. Shovels, rakes, wrenches, and hammers all rattled at the abruptness of her entrance. She found a crowbar in the belly of an old wheelbarrow and made her way back to the main building.

Brooke jammed the thin, wedge-shaped end of the crowbar between the door and the frame. Her muscles strained, pulling the stiff piece of iron backward. The wood splintered and cracked from the pressure Brooke applied. Finally, the door burst open, sending broken pieces of wood hurtling through the air.

A burst of heat greeted her upon entrance. Months of inactivity had turned the building into a hotbox. Brooke's boot prints cut a trail through the sand and dust covering the concrete floor.

The first room she walked through was the main office. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized the familiar shapes of desks lining the walls. All of the computers had been taken, but the furniture remained.

Brooke continued to the back of the station, her hands outstretched, feeling her way through the darkness. The storage room was in the very back and housed the circuit box. While the solar cells outside were in bad shape, they should still be able to produce enough power to get the station back up and running.

Her fingers fumbled over the hot metal of the circuit box until they found the handle. She pulled it open and flicked the breakers on.

The lights came on, and the vents puffed dust as air burst through them for the first time in months. She snatched the fuel key, which still hung next to the supervisor's station, and made her way out to the fuel tank, grabbing an empty gas can along the way.

The fuel tank rested on the side of the station. She pulled the nozzle from the hatch and stuck the key into the lock, which granted her access to the diesel inside the long, rusted cylinder that would provide her with the fuel to get out of this hell hole.

Brooke closed her eyes, took a breath, and squeezed the trigger on the pump. The fuel tank gurgled, and after a few seconds, she could hear the splash of diesel fuel filling the can. She let out a sigh, relieved the tank still had some left.

Just before the diesel reached the rim, Brooke removed her finger from the pump's trigger. She screwed the cap on and headed back inside, leaving the filled can outside.

Brooke searched for the satellite phone, pulling open the drawers of filing cabinets, rifling through what had been left behind. She turned the place upside down, but she couldn't find it. The company must have collected it along with the computers when it shut the station down.

The gas can was right where Brooke had left it as she rewrapped her shemagh, struggling to tie it in the gusty desert wind. She picked up the filled gas can and started the long walk back to the cruiser, smiling underneath the scarf at the fact that things were starting to go their way.