Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (5 page)

Eric nodded, and Bill shrugged.  He handed the gun and magazine back to Eric.  "Then how did he end up with a cop's gun?" Bill asked.

Before Eric could think of a plausible answer, Claire and Mike arrived loaded down with bags and guns.  Mike had two packs on his back, an AR-15 on each shoulder, and he was carrying a medical bag identical to the one he'd used to treat Christina.  Claire had a similar load, but she carried two pump action twelve gauge shotguns instead of rifles. 

Bill and Eric went to lend a hand carrying the bags and guns.  Claire and Mike were both sweating and very thankful to lighten their load for the last leg of their hike.  Once everything was collected under the shelter, the group surveyed their supplies.  And set about culling what was unnecessary from what they couldn't afford to leave behind.

The stuff no one was sure about stayed in the middle.

Eric looked at the formidable stack of weapons and turned to Claire and Mike.  "What kind of ranger station was that?" he asked.

Claire shrugged.  "It's part of DHS regulations now.  All park service stations have to be capable of repelling a surprise attack or 'incident' that could be carried out on park grounds.  We've got to be able to hold our own until help arrives."

"Of course," Mike said with a sour twist to his mouth.  "That's assuming help is coming in the first place."

"Right," Claire said, and she reached into one of the field packs to pull out a large map.  She spread the map out flat on the picnic table and put rocks on each of the four corners.  "We're here, at the base of these trails," Claire said, pointing to where four lines converged on the edge of the mountain.  "And the wind that's carrying the smoke to us is coming from the south west."  She pointed on the map, and back over her left shoulder.  "That direction.  Our best bet is going to be to head east, I think."

Mike was shaking his head before she finished talking.  "Look, Claire," he said, pointing with an ink pen to the other side of the park.  "I-85 is just a couple of miles down the road if we go this way.  We can hit the interstate and be in Charlotte in less than an hour, easy.  There's got to be some kind of shelter or something set up in the city.  That's our best bet, and it's a straight shot."

"That makes me nervous," Eric said, rubbing his chin absently. "Once you're on I-85, there are concrete dividers and guard rails all over the place.  And we'd have to go through some pretty dense places before we get to Charlotte.  Given what Claire saw this morning, and what she had to do, I think we'd be better off staying to the back roads.  Keep away from people as much as possible until we figure things out."

Claire nodded and traced a line with her finger.  "I don't want to go west if we don't absolutely have to.  The smoke is getting thicker and it's coming from the west.  We don't know how big the fire is, or where it is, or anything else, and I don't want to get caught up in that.  We can follow Freedom Mill down to 46-42 and take that all the way to South 49.  We'll come into Charlotte from the south end where there are fewer people."

Eric nodded.  "Christina and I live in that area, and we know it pretty well.  I know a couple of places that we can go if things are rough."

Mike shook his head. "I still say I-85 is the way to go."

"How 'bout it, Bill?" Eric said. "You've been quiet this whole time, and it's your truck.  In the end, I guess that makes it your call."

Bill heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand over the bald top of his head.  After a moment, he shrugged a little and looked at Claire as he spoke.  "I was a Texas Ranger for a long time.  A lot of what I did was chasin bad people up and down interstates, picking up the pieces they left behind, trying to catch up and get ahead of 'em to stop 'em.  Weren't none of it pretty, and I don't care to relive it now, to tell you the truth.  I gotta go with Eric on this.  The longer we can keep to ourselves, the better we'll be."

Each person under the shelter nodded in turn except Mike.  For a long, tense moment, he stood glaring first at the map, then at Eric, and finally at Bill.  After what seemed like forever, he threw up his hands.

"Ah hell," Mike said, his voice dripping sarcasm.  "Fine! Over the river and through the woods.  I guess that's our road.  Makes me wonder why they built the dang interstates in the first place."

"OH Dear!" Imogene cried, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

Eric had just enough time to turn and watch as Christina took two shaky steps out of the tent.

Ch. 11

Chain Of Command

Tom rubbed his wrists and shook his head.

"Sorry, man," Joe said with an uncomfortable hitch of his shoulders.  "I didn't know what else to do.  Someone like you in these tight quarters....well, you could have done a lot of damage to the hardware and everything else.  I didn't know how far you'd slipped and I just couldn't take the chance."

Tom nodded.  "I know," he said.  "You did the right thing.  I just didn't know they still taught sailors how to tie knots like that."

All three of the men couldn't help but laugh at that, and it did a lot to ease the unspoken tension in the room.  They sat at the long, highly polished conference table in the briefing room.  The screens were dark now, and they would likely be that way for a long time to come. 

"You were right, Tom," Joe said, and he held up his hand when Tom started to protest.  "No, hear me out.  Whoever did this, Russia, China, North Korea, Iran...  it really doesn't matter more than a hill of beans when you get down to it.  The power grid is down, communications are down, and the sat-net is down.  They knocked us back to the 19th century with one hit."

Joe paused and took a deep breath.  He knew that what he was saying was the truth, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.  He wanted nothing more than to turn on CNN and watch the talking heads argue.  But he knew that wasn't going to happen ever again.  Joe knew what he needed to say, but the words stuck in his throat, and the silence stretched.

"I was a para-rescue jumper," Chris said suddenly, breaking the silence.  "I jumped into sh*t you wouldn't believe.  I graduated PJ School with twenty three guys.  Nine of us are still breathing, but we have saved more than four hundred lives among us.  That's how we made it all make sense.  We knew that each one of us that fell...  it was worth it.  We put our lives on the line to put our boys back together and make sure they didn't die.  'First there that others may live.' That was our motto, and we lived it."

Chris paused as his voice started to break a bit, and he took a deep breath. 

"I spent thirteen years saving other peoples' sons," Chris said after a moment.  "Who's going to jump in and save my wife and daughter? Who's going to make sure they make it through the night? The way I see it, if we were going to get orders from higher up we would have by now, especially given Tom's little episode.  Hell, the brass nuts in D.C.  could have hopped on a high-speed chopper and been here in person to rip him a new one by now.  Fact is, they're not coming.  And neither are any orders.  It's time to face facts....  The U.S.  has fallen."

By the end, Chris was whispering.  Still, his words seem to hang in the air for a long time.  No one spoke.  It seemed like no one breathed. 

"We only have two options," Joe said at last.  "We either sit here and wait for orders that we all agree aren't going to come, or we go.  At this point, the lines are down and the screens are dark.  All of the things we were put here to watch and to monitor are dead.  If we stay here, we'll end up dead eventually too.  If this is an all out, full scale attack, then this place will end up being high on the list of targets.  We all have families out there, and it's high time we go take care of them."

Tom and Chris nodded, and the three men walked out of the secure briefing room.  Joe picked up his Bible and took three wallet-sized family pictures from his computer terminal.  They were the only personal effect he had in the office.  He looked around the dark watch-room as Tom and Chris gathered their few personal effects. 

The three men left the office, and Joe secured the door to the watch-room with the proper code, though in truth there wasn't much at this point to keep safe.  With the comm. lines down and no satellite feeds, all anyone would gain access to would be dark computer screens and burned out phone lines.  Still, some habits die hard.

"There's an armory down the hall, third door on the right," Joe said.  "We'll stop there and gear up.  No telling what we'll run into out there on the streets."

Tom and Chris nodded, and the three stepped out into the hallway.  Joe led the way as they rounded the wide bend in the plain white hall.  The fluorescent lights overhead began to flicker intermittently, and they dimmed almost all the way out at one point.  Then, the lights flared back to full strength.

"Backup generator one is dead," Tom said.  "No telling how long the coils on number two will hold out."

Joe nodded and kept walking.  Finally, he saw the door to the armory ahead, and a lone guard standing watch outside it.  Joe took his ID badge from his back pocket and clipped it to the left side of his chest, just under the JSOC logo on his polo shirt so the guard would be forced to look at it.  Joe stepped up to the uniformed Marine Corporal without hesitation.

"Step aside, son," Joe said with a wave of his hand.  "We gotta get in there."

"Sir, this is my station," Corporal Henderson said in a shaky voice.  "I can't let you in without proper clearance."

Joe snorted loudly and took his badge off his shirt.  He waived it in front of the Corporal's eyes.  "You see what that says, son?" Joe asked, and answered his own question before the Marine could open his mouth.  "It says O-6.  That's Captain.  It also says J-S-O-C.  That's Joint Special Operations Command.  In other words, I have clearances you never even heard of.  Now step aside and let us in that armory before I have to chew you a new ass!"

Corporal Henderson stood for a moment, shaking hard, and finally he stepped aside.  Joe put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

“Who are you with, Corporal?" Joe asked.

"Base security, sir," Corporal Henderson replied, his voice as shaky as he was.  "We got the call to stations, and I came here at a dead run.  The other three guys who were supposed to be here with me...  they left a few hours ago.  I stayed though.  This is my station."

Joe nodded, and squeezed the Corporal's shoulder again.  "You did well, Corporal.  Listen, do you have family around here?"

Henderson shook his head.  "I'm from Arkansas, sir.  No family here, and not much back home to tell you the truth.  Sir, do you know what's happening? I tried to call my sister back home in Bismark, but my phone won't even turn on.  The battery was full, but something happened to it."

The Corporal pulled an iPhone from his pocket and handed to Joe.  The screen was shattered on the inside, but smooth to the touch.  True to his word, Corporal Henderson's phone wouldn't power on at all.

“Bismark's in North Dakota, Corporal," Joe said absently as he inspected the phone.

"Not the one I'm from, sir," Henderson said.  "It's a little place near De Gray lake.  We grew up there."

Joe handed the phone to Tom, who looked at it and shook his head and handed it back.  Tom and Chris stepped into the armory and began loading up field packs with magazines, ammo, and field rations.  Joe looked at the Corporal for a long moment, then sighed and pulled him into the armory with them.

"Listen, Corporal," Joe said, "I don't know whose chain of command you were under, and I don't really care.  Bottom line is, the chain of command is broken now anyway, so it doesn't mean two shits."

Joe rolled up his left sleeve enough to show his upper bicep and the tattooed Seal globe and trident emblem.

"You know what that means, Corporal?" Joe asked, and Henderson nodded, his eyes wide.  "Good, then that will save me some time.  We are leaving right now.  We're going to find our families and make sure they are safe.  You're welcome to come with us, if you want, or you can stay here and man your post.  The choice is yours, but you need to understand something.  Orders aren't coming down to you.  Not any time soon, son.  For right now, you're either with us, or you're on your own."

Henderson didn't even hesitate before saying, "I'm going with you, sir."

Joe shook the corporal’s hand.  "Okay, then here's the deal.  You ride with us, you follow our lead.  We're going after their families first, then we're moving south after mine.  One we get through with that, then we'll head to Arkansas or wherever to find your sister and whoever else.  Bottom line, we stick together, we work together, and we watch each others' backs.  Got it?"

“Yes sir," Henderson said, nodding his head repeatedly.

"Alright then," Joe replied, stepping into the armory.  "Grab guns, ammo, med kits, and food.  We'll get water as we go."

"Yes sir," Henderson said eagerly.  "Yes sir, I'm right on it, sir."

Joe grabbed a field pack from a shelf and shook his head.  "Don't call me sir," he said gruffly.  "That's all over with now."

Ch. 12

The Decent Thing

Bill cranked up the old Dodge and the engine roared to life.  Imogene helped Christina into the cab and then climbed into the passenger seat.  Mike, Claire, and Eric sat in the bed among the various packs, bags, coolers, and water jugs.  Once everyone was in the truck, Eric thumped the roof of the cab twice and Bill put the Dodge in drive.  He pulled carefully out of the parking spot and down the gravel drive towards the highway. 

Freedom Mill Road was nearly empty as Bill made a right turn out onto the pavement.  Ahead, a black Taurus was pulled half onto the shoulder the road, the hood up and two doors open.  As Bill started to pass the car, Claire began thumping hard on the roof, startling everyone inside.  Bill stopped so suddenly that Eric slammed into the half-window in the back wall of cab hard enough to make his ears ring. 

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, woman!" Bill growled through his window.  "What is with all the damned ruckus?"