Dark Grid (11 page)

“Eric, I was only partially kidding out there.  I know you’re IRR, but that still means something.” Kyle said.  “Before you all get going, if it’s dropped in the pot I’ve got to assume that anybody that’s IRR would have been activated which means you’d have been too.  That means you’d be a Senior NCO right now.  You’re here, as in inside the building, for a number of reasons.” 

“I’m serious about the IRR, consider it Eric.  We’ve had about ninety-percent muster so far.”  Eric’s eyebrows went up at that.  He wasn’t expecting quite that high a turnout…period--much less so quickly.

“Well said, Kyle, and I’m already thinking about it; but that isn’t why I’m here. Chuck, Sheri, is it OK if I start and then we kinda go around the table, as it were?”

“Fine by me, I don’t know that I know more about this than you do,” Chuck replied.

“Same here, I think we can fill in the blanks but I think you’ve been plugged into this, no pun intended, longer than we have,” Sheri said.

 “What about GPS, Eric?  You mentioned that you had an idea about that on the way out of the neighborhood a couple of hours ago,” Joel interrupted.

“I’ll actually get to that, maybe, if I can.  I don’t know how classified that is, or was.  I might be able to sum it up and not get myself in trouble if and/or when the power comes back on and the government is back online.”  Eric looked at Ramirez, “Actually, Kyle might be able to speak to that better than I can.  I’d forgotten that you all were a signal company.  You’d probably know more regarding what we could share regarding that.”

Kyle nodded but didn’t say anything at this point.

“Fair enough,” Joel wasn’t entirely pleased, but thought he understood the reason.

“So basically, anything that was plugged in and turned on went poof.”  Eric proceeded to explain the basics of the CME to Kyle with clarifications and additional information from Chuck and Sheri occasionally provided.

“Wow, and I sincerely mean that, like from the bottom of my heart.  We should go ahead and start working on the other buildings.  Man I wish the Captain was here, or even the LT.”  Kyle was muttering to himself.

“You mean neither of them is here yet?” Eric was more than a little surprised and it showed in his voice and face.

“It’s not like that.  The Captain is in DC and the LT and his wife are out of town for their 20
^th
anniversary.  C’mon man, they’re ‘lifers’.”

“So, are you telling me that I might actually be the senior NCO here?  I might be the senior staff, period, if I activate myself?”

“Calm down, you aren’t the senior NCO, the First Sergeant is here; she was here at o’dark thirty yesterday and hasn’t slept yet to the best of my knowledge.  We just don’t have a single officer here, is all.  We also don’t have any communication with higher yet--although if GPS is up, that should be resolved shortly I would think.”  Kyle made a face.

“I’d rather not be micromanaged from afar once we get commo set up, and without the LT or the Captain here, I’m afraid that’s what they’re going to do.” Kyle said.  “You and I both know why you got out man.  They are
NOT
going to leave it all up to the First Sergeant, no matter how good she is.”

Kyle turned to Joel, “Mr. Taylor, Joel if you prefer, I’ll answer your question about the GPS as much as I, we, can.  Suffice it to say that if you are getting GPS signal the military is getting back communications capability as we speak.  I can’t go into the details, but sometime in the next forty-eight hours we should start getting instructions from higher up and eventually, officially, begin getting recalled.  You too, E.T.” Kyle looked at Eric.

Great, it’s going to get to the point that every time I hear a radio crackle and see someone headed my way I’ll have to run and hide.  Oh well.
  Eric thought.  Communication
was
pretty important, after all, and at least his ‘baby birds’ were working.  They’d been his brainchild and how cool was it knowing that something the military had conceived, designed, built, and deployed had actually worked right the first time and in a time of need?

Kyle looked at this watch and shook his head, “You all have been here for a little while, does anyone need to use the bathroom or want to get a drink?  The soda machine’s got power.  Ironically it was unplugged when the power went out.”

“Actually, yes sir, if I could I’d like to take advantage of both.  Maya’s been squirming for a couple of minutes too,” Josh replied.

“Ewww, gross!” Maya said and slugged him in the arm.  Man, he was getting beat up a lot the last couple of days.

“I’m sure you’ve heard it before but I’m not Sir, I work for a living,” Kyle replied.  “We save Sir for the officers, none of whom are here right now.  Typically we refer to each other by our rank.  That’s more than sufficient respect, we know how much it means to have attained it and there’s no disrespect in not being called Sir or Ma’am.  For that matter you can feel free to call me Kyle or Mr. Ramirez if that works for you.”

“In that case, Staff Sergeant, I need to pee please.”

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh at the combination of formality and casual address.  “Carry on, son.  The bathrooms are down the hallway to the right on the right and left side.  The soda machine is at the end of the same hallway.  While everyone is taking care of business I’ll go get the First Sergeant.  If we could all be back here in five minutes we can go through this all over again.”

…

Everyone but Joel and Rachael had left for either the bathroom or to get a soda or both.  “Joel, what’s wrong?  You haven’t said anything since you asked about the GPS.”

“You haven’t said anything either, why’s something wrong with me?” Joel snapped.

“Well, your sunny demeanor aside, you usually aren’t this quiet.  You were much more involved back at the house yesterday and I doubt you’re still dwelling on the Carey situation.  Personally, unless I have something specific to add, I’m going to let the men handle things for a while.  I don’t feel like I’m bringing a whole lot to the table, Joel.  I feel like the kids and I are baggage right now--I’d rather not call attention to that if it’s all the same to you.”

“Well hon, now you know how I feel.  The longer we sit here the more I feel the same way.  I’m a cubicle dweller.  I manage servers all day long for a living.  You can at least cook; what can I do?  I don’t see a whole lot of server consolidation going on in the next couple of months, do you?  I can’t see myself bringing up a ton of new web servers for the next killer app in time for the Christmas rush either.”

“We like to camp--great, super.  I’m 38 years old with a bad back and I’m bi-polar, which reminds me I haven’t taken my medication today and I think I forgot it last night, which probably explains my piss-poor outlook on life right now.  What happens when the three-month supply of our daily meds run out if the power isn’t back up?  Mail-Med isn’t delivering right now and I doubt they’ll be delivering without payment.  Do we rob a pharmacy and do we do it today before everybody else thinks of it?  What happens when I blow out my back lifting a…whatever…and I don’t have any more Lortab?  What happens when your birth control expires?”  Joel shook his head in frustration.

“Hon, what’s going to happen to your mom and my dad, both of whom are diabetic?  They’re practically to the point of insulin dependence--and needing to use those pens.  Without refrigeration they’re good for what, three months?  Then what?  I know there’s power to be had, but there’s no way to get it to people.

Joel slumped backwards in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face.  Rachael knew exactly how he felt; she just hadn’t put it into words yet.  This was just a microcosm of what was going on or likely to happen.  “Joel, that’s what you bring to the table.  You are thinking big picture and you aren’t afraid to voice the concerns that the rest of us keep to ourselves.  I’ve been stewing about some of those same things, especially the birth control, but didn’t know how to bring it up.  Maybe try to be a bit more tactful but don’t keep it all inside.”

“Ok, that’s fair.  It’s just that the longer I sat here with nothing to contribute the more like a lump I felt.”

“Just don’t let it rule your life, Joel; it’s still just the second day.  I love you and I need you, in all your mood-swingy, sore back, receding-hairline glory.”

“Is my hairline really receding?” Joel asked, a bit of a whine in his voice.

“For heaven’s sake, you’re as bad as a woman--and I should know!”  Rachael put her arm around Joel and her head on his shoulder as Karen and Sheri came back in.

“You look to be in a slightly better mood, Joel.  Rachael give you a pep talk?”  Karen had a couple of Cokes and slid one over to Rachael as she sat down.

“You could say that.  I was starting to feel sorry for myself there near the end.  I guess all these military types, and Sheri, you and Chuck, were making me feel superfluous.”  Joel was eyeing Rachel’s Coke.

“Open it before you drool on yourself, Og, just leave some for me.  Never mind that you should have been a gentleman and gotten up and gotten one for me yourself,” Rachael cocked her head slightly to one side and ever so slightly down, looking ‘up’ at Joel and arching her left eyebrow.  In other words, giving him what is known by men the world over as The Look.

“Oh Lord, have mercy on my soul.  Civilization as we know it may have come to an end at 3:14 yesterday morning and I’m sleeping on the couch because I didn’t get a Coke during our five minute break.  I am so doomed!”

“What’s this about civilization coming to an end when the power went out at 3:14 yesterday?”

All eyes turned to the open door and it was all everyone present could do not to immediately stand up, just by reflex.  First Sergeant Mallory Jensen had been in the Army for thirty-one years, and was one of the full time staff for the Tennessee National Guard stationed at the Nashville Armory.  She had a presence about her that commanded not only respect, but immediate, absolute obedience.

“Well, that went well.  Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way maybe we can get to the details,” Kyle said as everyone continued to walk into the room.

“Can it, Ramirez.  I’ve been up since three-something yesterday morning.  The coffee today is worse than usual and hit its peak effectiveness about three hours ago.  Good to see you, Eric. I hope that continues to be a true statement.”

“First Sergeant, it’s good to see you too, although I wish the circumstances were different,” Eric replied.

“Wonderful, you’re IRR but you’re still calling me First Sergeant, not Mallory.  What the fu…sorry, kids present, hell happened that has you showing up today and Ramirez coming to find me, then?  Wait, before you begin, let’s get some introductions out of the way.  I think you have all deduced by now that I’m First Sergeant Mallory Jensen.  Right now I’m both the senior ranking enlisted staff, or NCO, which means Non-commissioned Officer for those of you who aren’t familiar with military jargon, and the senior ranking staff, because there are no Commissioned Officers present.  Talk to me, Eric.”

 “It’s a long story, how much do you want and in what order?”  Eric asked

Before Mallory could respond, Joel interjected, “And there’s a whole lot more to discuss than we got through with just Staff Sergeant Ramirez.”

Chuck and Eric both looked over at Joel-- relieved that he’d finally chimed in.  “In that case, Eric, why don’t you see how much you can debrief me in fifteen minutes, with any additional input, and then we’ll get some chow, sorry, lunch.  Afterwards, we can reconvene and go into the details.”

Fifteen minutes later, give or take twenty seconds, Eric wrapped up his debrief.

Mallory had sat with her elbows on the table and steepled index fingers at her lips for the entire fifteen minutes, except to ask the occasional question for clarification.  When Eric finished, she sat there for a full minute with her lips pursed, eyes squinted just a bit, and a thousand-meter stare.  “Ok, clearly I’m going to need more coffee.  Let’s get fed.”

As they walked out of the conference room, Chuck smelled lunch cooking and realized just how hungry he was.  He was a snacker and this three meal a day business was going to kill him.  It smelled like chicken, potatoes, green beans, okra, cornbread and rolls. He thought maybe he even smelled brownies?  As it turned out, there were both chicken and roast beef, green beans, peas, fried okra, cornbread, fresh yeast rolls, fresh mashed potatoes (not instant, no sir), fresh baked macaroni and cheese and yes, brownies for desert.

The head cook was a chef and part owner of a restaurant--hence the fresh mashed potatoes and from-scratch yeast rolls.  One of the benefits of serving in the guard was that those you served with, many times, did what they did in the guard for a living.  The diesel mechanics actually did it as a day job; so they were intimately familiar with the engines on the weekends as well.  The cooks were chefs, and made really good food.  The communications guys were computer geeks and electrical engineers who could fix and make stuff up on the fly that would blow your mind.

“Excuse me, First Sergeant Jensen, does the Army always eat like this?” Josh asked Mallory.

“No son,” Mallory chuckled.  “This is one of the perks of being in the guard.  Our head cook is part owner of a restaurant.  Out in the field we’d be eating MREs, meals in a box, and unfortunately they aren’t like Lunchables.  They aren’t horrible but we miss Sergeant Walker something fierce.”

Joel excused himself and went out to the Suburban to dig through the duffle bag Rachael had packed with their immediate necessities until he found the pocket with their medications.  Coming down off of most bi-polar and anti-depressant medications was murder--sometimes literally--especially those that you took twice a day.  Missing two in a row would make him, and everyone around him, miserable, right up until they tied him to a chair and gagged him.  He took one dose with him and headed back inside. 
What are we going to do in a couple of months when our supplies of these run out?
He wondered.

Chapter Thirteen