Deep Freeze: Protocol One, Book 2 (Protocol One Saga) (2 page)

My plight did not end with that message. By my honest calculations it had been close to ten minutes. That was far too long, and once again, after tucking the phone in my pocket, began my venture across the casino floor. I kept my focus forward, needing only to get to the door and I avoided looking around. There was so much to see in that one building. How things had deteriorated. A part of me needed to see what happened to the world in every aspect. The casino was my base, my belongings were there; I’d have time to see and explore when I returned. I had to.  How was I to understand completely what drove survivors to do what they did, when I was sheltered and safe? It is easy to judge and say “I never will”, when you aren’t there or haven’t experienced it.

My boot caught something, sending it sailing across the floor. The sound jolted me and I reminded myself I was the cause of it.

Although gloomy, the fast falling snow helped make it brighter. I reached the main entrance. It was open and large, a fountain sat center stage, but the water inside was gone. Before going any further, I tucked my pant legs tightly in my boots, secured my hat, hood and face scarf, along with gloves and walked to the door.

Hating to do so, I replaced the safety on my gun. I stood more of a chance of it going off with the clumsy gloves. Who was I kidding? I was about to venture out into the snow, I would be clumsy all the way around.

There were two sets of doors, the outer one led to a huge entranceway with a valet area sign all of which was protected by a cement canopy. There was some snow there from where it blew in.

As I approached the main doors I saw it. A trail of water glazed across the floor from the far right door.  After crossing the first set of doors, I noticed the wet area continued to the outer doors on the right. Had someone gone out and come back in? That was the door they used and so did I.

As soon as I pushed the door, the blast of wind took my breath away. I raised the scarf to cover my nose and mouth, and wished I had pulled the goggles from the gear because it wouldn’t be long before my eyes watered.

To my right was the river, ahead of me I could see the football stadium and to my left was the parking garage. Virgin snow covered the ground around the garage. No tire tracks. Foot prints would have been covered, at least some, four inches if not more had fallen since we arrived.

The river, even frozen seemed to toss a frigid gust of air at me. A small road ran perpendicular to it but was blocked off at a point. River Road. We had taken it as far as we could when we had to turn around. That was when we heard the cry for help. Looking around, I saw the course of Tony’s thinking. Clearly the person that stole our Humvee either turned around and followed our route to the blocked point or went around the casino completely.

Where to begin?

The canopy offered some protection from the elements and it was fortunate that I was able to see multiple footprints in the snow in the valet circle. They went toward the river and then disappeared. At least from where I stood. It was my intent to follow them and that was when I noticed more footprints. Those were near to the building, as if the person came up close, rounded the bend and ran inside.

The footprints in led one direction, toward the valet area.

It all started making sense.

Or in my mind it did. There was a reason the casino didn’t feel used and held the odor of the burnt electronics. It was a forgotten haven. People or rather survivors didn’t consider it. Maybe they did but found it useless, who knows.

A single set of footprints not yet covered in snow went directly to the far door.

I pieced it together. If the people who took our Humvee spotted us circling the city their shelter had to be near there. They sent the woman as the decoy, she ran into the casino, saw she drew us from the car and ran back in knowing we’d follow.

All while her partner in crime took our ride.

He or she, the driver, probably had plans to meet the woman elsewhere.

Tony thought of this. He had to.

The woman ran through the casino out the main doors and toward the river.

That explained those footprints. She could not have had that far of a lead on Tony.

I crossed through the canopied valet section into the snow, watching the tracks.

There definitely were more than one set. One of them bigger, it had to be Tony’s. But the footprints faded and grew harder to make out. They ran through the snow, kicking it up covering things.

Prior to the storm, the ground was glazed with ice and hardened snow. The fresh layer added traction and I was able to walk, but that wouldn’t be for long if it continued to clobber the area. I’d need a walking stick or pole to keep my balance.

I walked directly to the river, standing on the road. It was gray and desolate. The wind blew fiercely and the snow felt like acid as it hit on parts of my exposed face.

I felt alone, as if there wasn’t another soul alive.

If ever there was a true vision of barren and desolation, it was there in that moment. I was a speck. A mere dark dot in the white of it all. To look at the buildings they screamed vacant and empty, the taller ones burned in spots, cars were left abandoned all around.

Did the car thieves go East past the stadium or West out of the city?

My chest was heavy with frustration and sadness. What the hell happened to Tony?

I lowered the scarf and inhaled to cry out. The cold wind rendered me breathless.

When we left the bunker, Peter said it was thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit. Granted the temperature had dropped, yet it was still warm compared to what it was weeks earlier.

I took a breath through the scarf and yelled out my loudest, “Tony!”

The snow offered so much insulation there wasn’t even an echo. My voice was just absorbed with a deadened sound.

“Tony!”

I need to find tracks, something to follow, and get direction.

The snow to my right was smooth, untouched, unlike that to my left. Even though there were no defined footprints any longer, the snow was disrupted, it lacked that untainted look.

Taking a gamble, I opted for left and headed east toward the stadium.

For a block, it was free and clear of cars and trucks, mainly because most of my journey was across what I believed was a parking lot, just before the Stadium, three foot concrete barricades were set up to form a wall. A military truck remained. No one was in it. Its canvas covering was frozen. Both driver and passenger doors were open. It looked like a rush to escape.

My first thought was, the underground shelter. But surely, someone would have heard me call out.

I peered to the sky, wiping away each flake that fell to my face, looking for smoke, something that signified life.

There were no tracks whatsoever around the barricade or truck, mine would be the first. The truck struck me as odd. It lacked that frozen food look, frosted over, windows cracked by sudden change temperature. Had it arrived not long before?

By all accounts, everything should have been iced over. I examined the truck, it was empty inside the cab and the back was bare as well. Not a paper, piece of lint, nothing. If it had anything, any supplies, they were gone. Was the stadium the shelter or was it elsewhere?

Pulling back my coat sleeve, I cleared the frost from my watch. It was nearly two PM. We had left the bunker four hours earlier. Before continuing on, I pulled out Gwen’s phone, hoping it was still powered. I needed a time gauge.

It was working. The power indicator blinked. It would be dead before I made it another block. My last message was sent sixteen minutes earlier. No new messages had come from Mystery D.

Sixteen minutes. Which meant it was pushing a half an hour since Tony dropped the bags and took off running. A half an hour in wasn’t an exuberant amount of time for someone to be gone. But in the scheme of things, in a dead frozen wasteland, it was an eternity.

I likened it to being God. Not that I had a God Complex, really I didn’t. If I were to compare myself to a religious figure, more than likely it would the Apostle Peter. The stand up guy, right there, seeing things, knowing things, spreading the word. Yet, having the ability to plead the fifth when backed against the wall. Although pleading the fifth isn’t an endearing quality at times. It certainly wasn’t for Saint Peter.

My daily purpose in the bunker made me feel important as I sat in the safe room, half the day watching security cameras, monitoring the radios. While I was primarily the scientist, the guy with the “know how”, the scientific knowledge is only needed so much buried a hundred feet below the surface, sealed away in the wake of a global catastrophe. Sure, I get asked questions, but not enough to keep me busy. My talents were better spent in conjunction with the safe room duties.

I liked it. Playing God. I am watching you. Let’s face it, I am a nosey person. Always was and always would be. Eyes on it all, I could zoom in anywhere, see it happen, do my best, and sometimes awful lip reading of what was being said. All while indulging in my guilty pleasure of sipping on a juice box. The straw perched to the side of my mouth so I could bite on it. Cherry was my favorite. I don’t think God would sip a juice box, He might. They’re pretty good.

The afternoon shift was mine. Tom, the security guy and pretty much the only other person besides me and Anna to work the safe room, was out on a survival run. He left with Skyler, an Army sergeant who had gone AWOL to be with his “partner” for the end of the world. His partner, Craig was our resident medical man.

In fact, it was a busy day. Two survival runs went out. I was needed to keep radio watch. Then again, I probably would have taken watch anyhow, just to stay occupied. Admittedly though, since Gwen showed up things were more interesting.

For some reason she seemed to behave as if the bunker was her own private resort and refused to see it otherwise. She made the mistake the first day of, “ordering her dinner brought to her room.” She was none too happy when it didn’t arrive. She went directly to Nelly who does most of the cooking.

Nelly is a trip, seventy-five years old, sassy and an excellent marksman. I swear she probably chewed tobacco in her youth. Right now she just rations that abundance of Pall Malls she brought.

Gwen gave her hell and Nelly blasted right back. I didn’t hear what was said, I only watched and read lips. I’m pretty certain Gwen didn’t ask Nelly to, “Wash her breasts in bleach” but it looked like she said it and Tom and I got a good laugh.

In fact, I was watching Gwen run frantically from floor to floor using each shower for the three minute limit before going to the next. With the ten minute reset in place, for Gwen to get that hour shower, she would be at it all day. I didn’t get it. But it kept her out of Nelly’s hair and mine.

There weren’t many people I didn’t like, Gwen was one of them. However I put on a good front, because she was up to something, I just knew it.

The last of my juice box sputtered in the straw when the radio hissed with static.

The all too familiar sound. I didn’t think much, because I believed it was the duo of Tom and Skyler or Tony and Anna.

Until they called out.

“This is Damnation Alley to Protocol One, do you read? Damnation Alley to Protocol One, do you read? Over.”

“Oh, yeah,” I smiled and spoke out loud. “The big guns are calling.”

Before responding I grabbed an in house radio and called out, “Hey Senator. DA is radioing. Over.”

“Thank you. On my way. Out,” Gil replied.

The big guy, the top honcho. Granted Gil paid for the bunker all in the name of his undying, unrequited love for his ex-wife Anna, he still wasn’t here the whole time. Anna ran things, and oddly, she just handed the reins over to Gil.

I returned to the radio and took the call from Damnation Alley. It was the ‘big’ bunker. The President was there. Gwen came from there. Probably was a rest for her.

Pampered in the Apocalypse

“This is Protocol One, I read you. Over.”

“Protocol One we received a distress call from a search and rescue team claiming to be from your camp. The distress call stated they were stranded in Pittsburgh. Taking shelter in a casino. Over.”

“Why would they contact you? Seems rather odd. Over.”

“Dude, really?” It was Mulligan, my favorite radio guy. I didn’t recognize his voice at first because not only was he being official he had been battling bronchitis for some time. “Seriously? Do you have people out there or not?”

“We do. Over.”

“A massive storm has rolled in. It may impede rescue attempts. Over.”

The massive storm. I cringed. I saw it, but it lingered north. I was getting quite good at predicting the weather. Unfortunately, I predicted the storm would keep north and it shifted. What the hell?

“Did they give any other information?” I asked.

“Negative. Communication lost now. Distress call came in thirteen hundred-forty. Over.”

“And they called you. Just seems weird, that they’d radio Texas when we’re closer.”

“I’m out. Out.”

Was Mulligan having a bad day? They got a distress call from Pittsburgh. I didn’t worry much, because at first I was confused and believed it was Tom and Skyler stranded. Then it dawned on me the second the door to the safe room opened that it was Anna out there.

“What’s going on?” Gil asked as he walked in. “They still on the radio?’

“No.” I shook my head and stood. “Gil, we have problems. DA received a distress call from Pittsburgh. Anna and Tony reached out to them for some reason. They are stranded and holding up at a casino.”

“Son of a bitch.” Gil spun and slammed his hand into the door way. “Anna is out there, stranded? I knew it. I knew she shouldn’t have gone. What the hell happened? Something had to happen. Tony would not just get stuck.”

“That storm I said would miss us … didn’t. It’s huge and showing no signs of stopping. That probably is it.”

He turned and headed back out the door.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Out to get them.”

“Didn’t you hear me? The storm is bad. More than likely that is why they’re stuck. We can’t help them if we get stuck out there as well. Another day or two. Tony is there. They’ll be fine.”

Gil groaned. “Fine. Get on the radio, try to reach them. I’m gonna work on something. Some way, I’ll get to them.”

He walked out with determination and I turned my chair back to the panel as I whistled. “Oh, sure, you’ll go get them. Tony will just love that.” With an exhale, I grabbed the radio.