Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (3 page)

Eric nodded and half carried Christina as they walked down the short trail to the campgrounds.  Each camp site was sectioned off from the others with a thick hedge-row.  The individual sites had their own electrical outlets under a small lean-to style picnic shelter.  A circle of large, rounded river stones marked the campfire area, and each site had a hand-operated pump that gave fresh, cold water from the naturally filtered subterranean springs in the area.

Inside their medium-sized six person dome tent, Eric spread out a foam pad and then opened Christina’s sleeping bag and lay over top of it.  He helped Christian onto the pallet and then stepped back outside.  A wave of exhaustion rolled him, but Eric shook it off and went to refill all of their water bottles from the hand pump.  He set the full water bottles and coolers under the picnic shelter out of the sun.

With the water supply replenished, Eric carefully and quietly stuck his head in the tent and retrieved his phone charger, Christina’s cell phone, and the small weather alert radio he always carried when camping.  He first tried to power on his phone again but couldn’t get any life out of it even after plugging it into his charger and plugging the charger into the outlet under the picnic shelter.  Christina’s phone also had a shattered touch screen and wouldn’t respond to any of the buttons he could press.  Discouraged, Eric tried to power up the small alert radio with similar results.

Drained, Eric folded his arms on the picnic table and leaned forward to rest his head on them.  He closed his eyes briefly and tried not to relive the last moments of the night before as he and Christina had watched airplane after airplane crash to the ground.  He wondered how many people had been on board those flights.  He’d stopped counting after fifteen explosions, but there had been many more.  At least a couple of thousand passengers, probably more, had perished in front of them in the space of a few minutes.

Eric shuddered hard, and the tears he’d been holding back by sheer force of will finally broke through, and he wept. 

Ch. 6

The Kindness Of….

Eric woke with a start and winced as the muscles in his neck cried out in protest.  He blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he looked around, trying to get his bearings.  His eyes fell on the line of water jugs underneath the table, and the reality of the night before crashed down on him.  Eric sighed heavily and pulled himself to his feet.  He made a quick round of the camp and collected everything together under the picnic shelter.  He began packing the coolers and getting things ready to haul back down the trail to the parking lot.  Once Christina woke up, he wanted to be ready to hit the road. 

When everything was packed for travel, Eric took all of the disposables and the trash he'd collected and tossed it in the two large round metal trash cans by the trail.  He looked at the shortened shadows around the trees and the shelter and guessed it was probably close to noon.  The sun overhead was beating down, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. 

There was no sound or movement from the tent, so Eric stuck his head in the door to check on Christina.  As soon as his head hit the inside of the tent he caught the sharp, acrid stench of vomit.  Christina lay on her side, and there was a stain on the floor of the tent where she'd gotten sick.  She was breathing in rapid, shallow gasps.  Eric put his hand to her forehead to check for a fever, but her skin was slick with sweat and cold to the touch.  Her cheeks were pale, and her lips had a light bluish tint to them.  He nudged her, gently at first and then with more force, but Christina didn't budge.

Suddenly, Eric's pulse was pounding in his ears, and he felt tears well up in his eyes.  He clenched his fists and bolted from the tent.

"HELP!" he yelled as loudly as he could.  He ran to the picnic shelter and grabbed two of the pans they'd used to cook dinner the night before and he began banging them together, yelling at the top of his lungs, "HELP!"

After a few minutes, a barrel-chested man with a vast paunch hanging over his faded denim jeans and straining the buttons on his bright red shirt came shuffling down the path from one of the other campsites.  His head was completely bald on top, but a fringe of long silver hair around the sides was pulled back in a ponytail and a broad gray and white beard fanned out over his massive chest.  Leather suspenders helped his wide leather belt hold his pants up, and he wore cowboy boots that matched his belt. 

The man was out of breath, and his face was almost as red as his shirt when he made it to Eric.

"What's the problem, son?" the man asked in a winded Texas drawl.

"I don't know," Eric said as he dropped the pans.  "My fiancé is in the tent, and she's sick or something.  I can't get her to wake up!"

The man placed a large, heavy hand on Eric's shoulder.  "It's okay, son.  Let me take a look, alright? You show me where she is."

Eric nodded and led the man over to the tent.  There wasn't room for both of them plus Christina, so Eric held the tent flap as the man worked his way half inside the tent to check on her.  After a few moments, the man grunted and grumbled as he struggled back out of the tent and into a kneeling crouch just outside the door.

"Looks like she's in shock, son," the man said.  "We need to get her feet up and get her warm.  Listen, back up the trail is Site 3C.  My wife is there, and her name is Imogene.  You tell her Bill needs her help and bring her back, okay? Then you run back down the trail and get one of the rangers."

Eric shook his head and grated through clenched teeth, "I'm staying with her."

Bill reached up and put his hand on Eric's shoulder again.  "I understand, son, but I need help here.  Now, you look at me.  Which one of us can go, get help, and get back quicker? I know you're worried and you're scared, but right now I need you to trust me."

After a brief hesitation, Eric nodded.  He turned and sprinted up the trail, looking for site 3C.  After a few hundred yards, he found the sign and ran up to the very petite woman stringing up linens on a clothes line between two trees.  She had curly hair that was brushed and teased into a perfect cap of steel-gray ringlets.  As Eric came to a skidding halt, she turned and smiled at him, wiping her hands on an apron that hung down the front of her pale green cotton dress.

"So you were the one makin’ all that racket?" Imogene asked in a sweet voice.

Eric nodded out of breath, as he panted, "Bill needs help.  My fiancé.  Site 3A down the trail.  On left.  I have to get rangers."

Imogene nodded.  "I'll get what I can and take it to him.  You run on now, dear."

Eric nodded again and bolted back down the path.  The trees passed by in a blur as he ran.  Twice he tripped and slid on the loose gravel, but he jumped back to his feet and continued down the path.  Finally, out of breath and bleeding from a few cuts on his hands, Eric leapt up the three wooden steps to the front porch of the ranger's office.  He started pounding on the door, hard, and didn't let up until the knob turned and a disgruntled Mike opened it.

"Jesus, don't beat the thing down," Mike growled.  "Oh, you.  What do you want?"

Eric was breathing hard but managed to say, "Christina's sick, in shock maybe.  There's a guy helping, but we need you.  She won't wake up."

Instantly, Mike's facial expression changed.  He nodded once and opened the door wide enough for Eric to enter.  Mike went to one wall and grabbed a red and black medical bag that he slung over his shoulder.

"Site 3A, right?" he asked, already moving towards the door.  "Okay, let's go."

Mike led the way out the door and shut it behind Eric.  He locked the deadbolt and followed Eric up the trail.  The ranger moved surprisingly quickly up the trail and soon passed Eric and kept running.  When Eric reached the campsite, he was panting and soaking wet with sweat.  His side had started to cramp, and he bent over trying to catch his breath.

Mike jogged up to the tent and got a brief rundown from Bill and Imogene.  He stepped into the tent and got a look at Christina, who was still lying on her side, panting and sweating.  Eric watched through the back window as Mike took Christina's pulse and listened to her heartbeat and respiration with a stethoscope he pulled from the kit.  Mike carefully lifted her eyelids and checked her pupils with a flashlight. 

Finally, Mike backed out of the tent and turned to Eric. "She's dehydrated and in shock.  We need to get fluids in her to get her electrolytes balanced and her blood pressure stabilized.  That means an IV, okay?"

Eric nodded, "Whatever you have to do."

Mike nodded and ducked back into the tent.  Imogene came over and patted Eric on the back, gently leading him away from the tent with Bill.

"Bill," Imogene said, "you take this young man over to that shelter and get some water in him before he dries up like a raisin, okay?"

Bill nodded and draped a massive arm around Eric's shoulders, ushering him away from the tent. "Yes, mother," he called warmly back over his shoulder as they walked.  "Don't worry, son," Bill said to Eric as they walked.  "Imogene there spent just shy of forty years as a nurse and EMT in Galveston, Texas.  She knows her stuff, and they'll take good care of your fiancé."

Eric nodded and stuck out his right hand. "I never introduced myself," he said, somewhat shakily.  "My name is Eric Tillman.  Thank you for coming."

Bill's hand swallowed Eric’s, and he shook it with enthusiasm.  "I'm Bill Daley, Texas Ranger....retired, of course," Bill said with a wide grin and a slap on his massive belly.  "If they tried to squeeze me back in my old uniform, I swear one of us'd split down the middle."

Bill roared with laughter at that, and Eric couldn't help but join in.  The two took a seat on opposite sides of the picnic table and talked while Mike and Imogene treated Christine.  Eric rubbed his eyes as he felt exhaustion creeping back into his muscles and bones.  Then, suddenly, Bill stopped mid sentence, and stood.  He breathed in deep through his nose, and a serious frown creased his face and broad forehead.

Bill looked down at Eric and said, "Do you smell smoke?"

Ch. 7

The Fog of War

"Guys, quiet, check this out" Joe called out as he transferred the main viewing screen to a full image of the
Russia Today
broadcast. 

An English speaking reporter had just finished a recap of the "troubling news" out of America, and the shot transitioned to a view of an ornate press room in the Kremlin.  Three massive, elegant crystal and gold chandeliers hung from a high ceiling.  A crowd of reporters sat in a semicircle in front of a simple platform that held a single podium with a bank of microphones.  Vladimir Putin entered from a side door to applause and flashes from cameras.  He stepped up to the podium cleared his throat and began speaking.

"Today, there has been a tragedy of unprecedented caliber.  The United States of America, our ally and friend, has come under direct nuclear attack.  Four weapons were detonated in the upper atmosphere above the United States, resulting in Electromagnetic Pulses, and crippling their infrastructure and disabling much of their modern and industrialized society.  At the same instant, nuclear attacks were carried out against New York, Los Angeles, and Miami.  The destruction in these cities is nearly complete."

The Russian President paused and took a careful, slow sip of water as cameras flashed.

"We have reason to believe that this attack was ordered, orchestrated, and executed by North Korea in an open act of aggression.  We have partnered with China and will be issuing a direct and immediate response of force.  Our fighters and bombers are in the air as we speak, and our justice will be as sure as it is swift."

Joe looked over at Tom and pointed to the screen.  "You tap into every feed we have from our Eurasian satellite fleet and get eyes on this.  Something doesn't smell right here.  How could they know this quickly who it was?"

Tom nodded and bent over his computer to work.  Putin looked directly into the cameras and continued, "We will offer any and all assistance we can to our friends in the United States as they cope with this massive disaster and tragedy.  Russia will do what we must to rebuild and remake America, the land of the free, and home of the brave."

Suddenly, Tom stood and took the remote From Joe.  He keyed in some commands, and the screen split to show four different satellite images.  The top left image showed a satellite radar image of the Korean Peninsula, the top right image was a true color image of the Bearing Sea and Alaskan coastline, the bottom left showed the western border of Russia, and the bottom right showed an image of a Russian naval base in northern Siberia.

"Look at the radar map," Tom said, pointing to the top left panel.  "We've got tracks on about forty targets that have no transponder identification.  That's got to be what ol'Puddin Pop was just talking about, but look at the flight paths.  We've got twenty five coming in over the Sea of Japan, and fifteen approaching from the Yellow Sea.  If you wanted to hit N. Korea, there are much more direct routes to get there, so why fly over open water?"

Chris frowned and squinted at the telemetry on the targets, then pointed.  "Look at the altitude! They're coming in at less than a hundred feet off the water.  Why would they come in on that vector to hit North Korea? All of the North's defensive capabilities are concentrated in the south.  They could fly in over China and have an open pathway for the most part."

"They've got to be headed for the South.  For our bases," Tom said, pointing to the map.  "Look, they can come in from the southern coast and skip all of the anti-air installments along the DMZ."

Just then, a red alert light started flashing on the radar image.  Tom raced back to his computer and brought up the message and cursed loudly.

"We've got multiple launches from Russia, China, Korea." Tom said, "Christ! They’re all over the place."

“What are the targets?" Joe asked, tapping commands furiously into his computer terminal, trying to pull up the radar telemetry.  Before he could enter the commands fully, though, his question was answered for him.