Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (4 page)

The satellite radar image of the Korean peninsula suddenly flashed to static.  A few seconds later, the same happened to the image over the Russian border with Europe.

"The Sat-net," Chris said.  "They're going after the Sat-net."

Joe stood and watched as the last two satellite images went dark.  He fell back into his chair as his knees gave out.

"Russia and China just blinded us," Tom said quietly.  "Only one reason for that.  War is coming."

Joe just shook his head and whispered, "No, Tom.  It's already here."

Ch. 8

On The Road Again

Mike and Imogene stepped out of the tent, sweaty and tired.  Bill saw them and nodded to Eric.  Eric walked over to the tent and looked through the back tent flap.  Christina was still asleep, but her breathing was slower and deeper, and her color already looked better.

"Is she okay?" Eric asked when Mike walked up to him.

"She's stable," Mike said with a small shrug.  "Her blood pressure is going up and her pulse and breathing are going down, which is all good.  She still hasn't woken up though, and I can't figure out why. 

Did she hit her head or anything?"

Eric shook his head.  "No, nothing.  She was fine when she lay down.  Well, as fine as she could be."

Bill coughed loudly enough to get their attention and looked a bit sheepish when both men turned his way.

"I hate to interrupt," the bear of a man said, "but I think we may have a larger problem at hand here.  There's the smell of smoke all over the wind, and if the breeze is carrying the smoke to us, eventually it'll carry the fire to us too."

Imogene nodded and patted Bill on the back.

"Is there any way out of here?" Eric asked, and Mike shook his head.

"We had two Jeeps at the ranger station," Mike said, "but after last night, the engines won't even turn over."

Bill cleared his throat again, somewhat self consciously.  "I got a '61 Dodge pickup down in the parking area.  I guarantee she'll crank.  Hell, I spent twenty years trying to kill the damn thing on the farm back home.  I finally realized anything takes care of you for that long deserves to be taken care of."  Bill tossed a set of keys to Eric.  "She's sky blue with white trim.  And I promise she'll crank.  If we gotta run, she's the best bet."

"Is there anyone else camping up here?" Eric asked.

Mike shook his head.  "Claire went out to check some of the trails, but she was coming back to the office.  I can't leave her here if there's a fire coming."

Eric nodded.  "Okay, here's what we do.  Bill, you and Imogene, do you have any food at your camp?" Bill nodded, so Eric said, "Good.  Go get that and any water you have and bring it back here.  Imogene, bring all the sheets off your line back too; we'll need them.  Mike, you go back to the station and get Claire and any guns and ammo you can find and bring it all back here.  If you have maps or med kits, bring that too.  Anything you think we can use.  This will be our rally point.  I'm going to go test out Bill's pickup.  Okay?"

Everyone nodded, so Eric took the keys and trotted down the gravel path towards the public parking lot.  The trail was only a quarter of a mile long, and it passed quickly.  Eric walked out onto the flat pavement of the parking lot and spotted the old Dodge across from him in the shade. 

When Eric was almost to the truck, though, a man stepped out of the edge of the woods.  He staggered a bit as he walked up and put one hand on the hood of the Dodge.  In the other hand he held a black pistol. 

"Don't care what you have," the stranger said, "but you best drop it, and now."

"Look," Eric said, his eyes dropping down the gun, "I don't want any trouble.  My fiancé is sick, and I need to get her to a doctor."

"Don't see anyone but you," the man said, pointing with his handgun.  "Now, whatever you got, drop it."

"I don't have time for this," Eric grated through clenched teeth, and he took a step towards the truck.

The man raised the gun and leveled it at him.  "I don't want to shoot you, but I will," he said.  "I've been walking all morning.  You smell the smoke, right? You hear any fire trucks? You hear anything at all?" the man asked, and when Eric didn't reply, he shook his head. "I didn't think so.  That's cause there's nothing out there.  Nothing but fire and death.  Now whatever you got, you drop it and you back up.  I don't want to shoot you, but I--"

Suddenly, there were three shots from behind him, and Eric jumped.  The man stumbled forward, dropped to his knees, and fell face forward on the pavement.  Eric turned in time to see Claire step pale-faced out of the brush behind him, her gun in her hands.  She walked up to the stranger and kicked his pistol away, then knelt to check his vitals and shook her head.

"I walked out to the road," Claire said in a whisper.  "This man shot two people and took everything in their pockets.  He was a couple hundred yards down the road and out of range, so I circled around and tracked him back here."

Eric bent and picked up the man's gun.  He checked the chamber, and it was loaded. 

"Thank you," Eric said, and Claire jumped as if she'd been pinched.  "You saved my life.  Listen, there's a fire coming--"

"I know," Claire said.  "I smell it on the wind.  But I don't know what we can do, Eric.  None of the cars on the highway would start, and he was right.  There's no one coming to help."

"I know," Eric said softly, "but if I'm right, we might have a chance."

Eric walked over to the pickup and unlocked the door.  He climbed in the cab, stuck the key in the ignition, and paused.  Eric closed his eyes, said a short prayer to the God he desperately hoped was listening, and turned the key.

The engine cranked easily and roared to life on the first try.  Eric leaned forward and rested his head on the steering wheel, his eyes closed and he whispered, "Thank you."

Ch. 9

Pissin In The Wind

"Mr. Secretary," Joe said through clenched teeth, "I don't think you understand.  We don't have any information because we don't have any way to get it.  The Sat-net is down, and it ain't coming back up, sir.  We don't have good numbers on exactly how many of our birds they shot down, but judging by how difficult it is to get a signal from anywhere, you can bet if they didn't get all of them, they came damned close.  We're blind, deaf, and dumb, sir.  And there's not a damned thing we can do about it."

Secretary Davisson's face got redder with every word.  "You listen to me
Captain
Tillman.  We're going to track down whoever did this, and we're going to make them pay.  That's your job right now, son.  Find who did this."

"It doesn't matter," Tom said softly, and everyone on the screen and in the briefing room turned to look at him, surprised and confused.

"Doesn't matter?" Secretary Davisson growled.  "Just what the fu--"

Suddenly, Tom stood, walked to the far end of the table, and grabbed the small black box that served as the connection hub for the video conference.  He ripped the cords from the wall, and the screens went instantly black.  Tom threw the CPU against the wall, and the casing cracked with a loud snap.

"Tom," Joe said carefully, "you okay?"

Tom just started shaking his head, and for a long time, he didn't say anything.  Then, his head snapped up, and he started to laugh.  It was a chilling sound.

"They don't get it," Tom said at last, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "They just don't get it, Joe.  It doesn't matter
who
did this.  They did it! And it worked, too; that's the b-&*$ of it all.  It actually worked.  Whoever it was, they hit us fast and they hit us hard enough to knock us out; not down,
out
."

"We'll come back from this, Tom," Chris said soothingly, and Tom shot him a glare that would have withered an oak tree.

"Really?" Tom grated.  "How will we come back, Chris? I've got a bachelor's in electrical engineering and a masters in semiconductor physics.  Before I joined the Rangers, I was headed to be a
scientist
.  Do you know what an EMP does to a circuit board? Cause I do.  The voltages spike in time intervals so short that the circuit breakers and fuses don't have a chance to flip.  Silicon heats instantly to vaporization points and all of the nice fancy little trace wires in processing chips melt straight through their housings.  Stuff isn't just messed up, Chris, it's FUBAR'd beyond all repair."

"Tom, you gotta calm down," Joe said, taking a step towards him.

"Screw you, Joe," Tom shot back.  "I've got a wife and four kids out there right now.  Don't tell me to calm down.  I can't talk to them, don't know where they are or if they're okay.  We can't talk to any of our bases anywhere, so we don't know what's happening.  We don't know what the next hit's going to be, or where.  So don't tell me to calm down!"

"I hear ya, buddy," Joe said, easing his way towards Tom.  "Chris here has a wife and a sixteen month old daughter.  I've got a wife and two kids myself.  We know what you're going through, okay?"

"Your kids are grown and out of college," Tom said dismissively, and Joe laughed.

"Jesus, Tom, you think you worry less about them once they're gone?" Joe asked.  "Give it time, and you'll see.  If anything, you worry more.  We're going to get through this, Tom.  Together."

"They don't get it, Joe," Tom said again, turning to look at the blank screen.  "Those brass nutted idiots in D.C. don't get it.  They're sitting behind their marble and granite walls, feeling safe and secure.  They don't get it yet....  but they will.  They're trying to hold onto how it was...  what they had...  who they were.  But that's just pissin in the wind now.  And if you're from the country, like you and me, well...  heh...  you know what that gets you."

Joe was close enough to make his move.  In two steps, he was behind Tom.  Joe's left arm went under Tom's and then up at a sharp angle while at the same time Joe brought his right hand around, locking his arm under Tom's chin.  Tom struggled and tried to get out, but the lock was tight. 

Joe put just enough pressure on the back of Tom's neck and under the point of his chin to pinch off the blood supply to his brain.  He waited, carefully counting the seconds until Tom's arms went limp and he was unconscious.

Joe carefully and gently laid Tom down at the end of the table.  Then, he took off his belt and Tom's.  He wrapped one around Tom's wrists and one around his ankles.  Tom was a highly trained Operator, and it wouldn't be a good idea if he woke up with a grudge and free range of motion.  When he stood, Chris was staring at him.

Joe smiled.  "You know when I told you I was in the Navy?" Chris nodded, and Joe shrugged a little.  "Maybe I didn't tell you the whole story.  I was stationed on an aircraft carrier for a few months, but right after that deployment, I applied for BUDS.  I spent the rest of my career as a frogman."

Chris shook his head in disbelief and looked at Tom.  "Man he really lost it, huh?" Chris asked, his face a little pale.

"Yeah, he did," Joe said, "but he was right too.  Listen, Chris, when Tom wakes up, there are going to be some tough things to talk about and decide.  You'd best get ready for it."

Joe turned and headed for the briefing room door.

"Where are you going?" Chris asked.

"To get my Bible," Joe said, never breaking stride, "and pray."

Ch. 10

Over the River and Through the Woods

Claire headed for the ranger's office to help Mike collect supplies while Eric carried the truck keys and good news back to his campsite.  Bill and Imogene were there already, stacking food and water under the picnic shelter.  Bill had a six shooter on his hip.

"How is she?" Eric asked, glancing through the back window of the tent.  Christina hadn't moved much, but her breathing was easier and the IV bag was nearly empty. 

"She's resting easier now," Bill said, walking over to Eric. "Still hasn't woken up yet, but she was making noises and mumbling.  Mother says that's a good sign and that once her body's rested enough she'll be up and around."

Eric breathed a sigh of relief and headed back towards the picnic shelter with Bill.  He stopped at the pump long enough to splash cool water on his face and neck and to get a quick sip to cool off his throat.

"I keep it with me when I'm out of town," Bill said when he saw Eric looking at the pistol at his side.  "Been years since I hung it on my belt, but you never know.  How'd the truck do?"

"Started right up," Eric said, flipping the keys to Bill."  Just like you said she would."

Bill laughed a good, hard laugh that shook his shoulders as well as his massive paunch, and he slapped Eric on the back so hard it nearly knocked him over.

"I told you that was a hard truck to kill," Bill said.  "It'll be a tight ride, but we should all fit."

"There's something else," Eric said softly, watching as Imogene folded sheets and blankets into carefully crafted bundles tied with bungee cords.  He took Bill by the elbow and led the ex-ranger a few yards away to make sure they were out of ear shot and said in a low voice, "Claire had to shoot someone."

Bill just nodded.  "I heard the shots," he said and put his hand lightly on the grip of his Smith and Wesson.  "That's why I went and got the Mag here.  Wasn't sure who was doin the shootin, and I didn't want to be the last one to the party, if you get my meaning."

Eric nodded.  "This guy, looked like a drifter, came into the parking area and drew down on me.  He wanted everything I had, and he looked like he meant it.  Claire was in the bushes, though, and she shot him.  She saw him out on the road and he killed a couple and took everything they had.  If she hadn't been there..."

Eric pulled the pistol from the waistband of his jeans and handed it over to Bill.  Bill checked to make sure the weapon was cleared, and it was.  Then he inspected it and a deep frown creased his forehead.

"This is a service piece," Bill said, pointing to stamps on the grip, the slide, and the magazine.  "See, it's stamped CMPD.  Anytime you see a crest and 'PD' stamped on a gun, it's a service piece.  You said this guy was a drifter?"