Radioactive Omnibus- A Prepper Survival Story (3 page)

Jim walked back over to Coyle and surveyed the dozens of ambulances and fire trucks now on scene assisting the wounded. When he finally reached Coyle, he was sitting still staring at the pool of blood the young man left behind. Jim put his hand on Coyle’s shoulder as he knelt down to him.

“You did great,” he said.

Coyle glanced back up at him with watery eyes and nodded his head. Jim stood back up and extended his hand to help Coyle off the ground.

Firefighters were extinguishing the flames in the surrounding buildings. Debris lay strewn along all areas of the base. Jim couldn’t believe it. There was no way this was the same Naval Base he had entered this morning, but it was.

Jim saw Angela propped up on a stretcher as they were walking back and trotted over to see her. She was conscious with an IV running into her and a bandage wrapped around her head.

“Where’s Terry?” Jim asked.

“They took him up to the Naval Medical Center. He wasn’t breathing when they left.”

“Who’s second in command?”

“Captain Forth.”

“Where is he?”

Angela pointed behind Jim to the smoldering U.S.S Midway as tears welled up in her eyes. Jim looked back at the fiery blast as the EMS responders loaded Angela into the back of the ambulance. They slammed the doors shut, startling Jim, and before he could say a word, the ambulance was off.

Jim rushed back over to Coyle who was trying to hold himself up with a steady balance. Jim started to cough as the smoke in the air thickened. He grabbed Coyle’s arm and pulled him along back to their vehicles. Jim hoped beyond anything that they were still intact.

“Jim, what are you thinking? What’s going on? What are we gonna do?” Coyle asked between exhausted breaths.

Jim didn’t immediately answer, leaving Coyle to wonder if Jim had heard him. As the two of them headed off away from the chaos, Jim said aloud the one thing he was thinking.

“Get the hell out of San Diego.”

Jim and Coyle found their cars intact where they’d left them. Jim threw his and Coyle’s bags in the back of his truck as Coyle tossed him the keys. He unlocked the back van doors and took a scan of its contents. He grabbed some of the multi-use tools that Coyle had, along with a tackle box, and combined them with the rest of the items in his truck. He locked the van and tucked the keys into his pocket.

Coyle looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

Jim hung on the driver side door.

“It’ll be better if we take one car. My truck is a four by four.”

Jim got in and started the engine while Coyle mulled over the fact of leaving his van and tools in the middle of all the madness. Jim rolled down the window and shouted, “Hey, the longer we wait the worse it’s going to get!”

Coyle lingered next to his van.

“Coyle, if I’m wrong I’ll buy you a new van,” Jim said. 

Coyle let out an exasperated breath and jumped in the truck.

“That one has sentimental value,” Coyle said.

Jim pulled out of the space, dodging the emergency and military vehicles scattered around the base. The crowds from the U.S.S Midway Museum were half awestruck and half panicked. The majority of the people had been evacuated from the immediate area, and all of them seemed to spill into the road clogging up traffic.

Police arrived in droves and started herding the tourists away from the harbor and roping off sections of the base. Jim wanted to get out before they were stuck here for questioning.

Drivers became restless as the crowds thickened and patience dwindled. Horns and shouts from all over could be heard for miles. The EMS vehicles were flipping on their sirens as cars tried to make room for them to pass.

A military officer walked to one of the upset drivers and tapped his AR-15 on the glass of his driver side window.

“Honking won’t make it go any faster, pal,” the officer said.

The driver sunk back into his seat and took his hand off the horn.

Jim was right on the curb in between the intersection and the highway.

“If we can make it up to the street I can jump the median and get on the interstate back to my place,” he said.

Jim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel then opened up his glove box for a pen and paper. He shoved the pen and paper into Coyle’s hands.

“Make an inventory of everything in the truck. Tools, maps, food, everything.”

Coyle rummaged through the glove box, checked back behind the seats, and got out into the bed of the truck and wrote down everything that he could find. He climbed back into the truck after the survey. During that time they had moved about a foot. He handed the list to Jim who looked it over.

“Not bad. We could be in a worse situation,” Jim said.

Coyle surveyed the massive, un-orderly exit of families on vacation and turned to look at Jim who was still studying the paper in his hands.

“Jim, what the hell happened back there? What kind of a blast does that to a military naval ship?”

“It was probably a dirty bomb. Terrorists will take a dynamite base explosive with a radioactive component to enhance the blast radius and sheer power.”

All of the frustration, fear, and anger that Coyle had came pouring out. He punched the front dashboard repeatedly.

“Goddamnit! How could have this happened? We’re on a military base!” He paused for a second. “In San Diego!”

“Knock it off! You’re going to bring attention to us, which I would like avoid,” Jim said.

Coyle slammed his head back into the headrest. Jim put his hand on his shoulder as he spoke.

“The San Diego Naval Base is the central logistical hub for the entire southwest region of the United States. It’s homeport for the Pacific fleet and is also one of the Navy’s formal training grounds. It’s a perfect target for somebody wanting to hurt the United States.”

A horn honked behind them and Jim noticed that traffic had picked up a bit and he lurched forward. He was able to pass the intersection and jump onto the highway where he went twenty over the speed limit.

The truck pulled into Jim’s driveway and he jumped out. Coyle followed suit and started to reach in the back to grab their gear and Jim stopped him.

“Leave it. We won’t be long.”

“We’re not staying here?”

“No, we have to get out of the city.”

Jim swung the front door open and ran to the small closet in the hallway. He pulled the backpack out and placed it in the hallway, then took out his keys and put the smallest in the lock of the black safe that lined the inside of the closet. He opened it to reveal a shotgun with a tactical grip, an AR-15 with scope, two 9mm pistols, and stacks of ammo for each. The assault rifle would be good for any combat situations, and he had a variety of shells for the 12-gauge for hunting, ranging from the big buck shot shells to the “number four” shells for duck hunting. Jim grabbed a large duffle bag from the top and started emptying the safe.

He pulled a holster out and strapped it to his belt. He liked to keep his pistol at his hip for easy access and the Ruger LC9 was small enough to be hidden under a jacket without looking too bulky. He stuffed one of the pistols in his bag and kept the other one out, loading a magazine in it. He shoved it in the holster, covering it up with his shirt along with two spare magazines. He walked back down into his room and grabbed a jacket out of the closet.

Jim placed the duffle bag of guns and ammo behind the seat of his truck along with the backpack. When he came back inside he saw Coyle sitting on the couch with Tigs in his lap purring loudly. Jim walked to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pills from the cabinet and headed over to Coyle. He tossed the pills into his hand and Coyle examined the bottle.

“What’s this?” Coyle asked.

“Potassium-iodide,” Jim replied. “It’ll help fight off any radiation poisoning we may get. Take one.”

Jim returned with a bottle of water and handed it to Coyle to help swallow the pill. He handed one to Jim who did the same. Jim went to grab his cat’s cage and a small pre-prepared bag of cat food when Coyle shouted from the living room.

“So where are we headed to once we get out of San Diego?” Coyle asked.

Jim stacked the food in his pack and walked back down the hallway to the living room.

“Phoenix,” he said when he entered. “My sister and niece live there. We can stay with them for a while.”

“You sure it’s cool if I come with?”

“It’ll be fine.” Jim picked up Tigs and put her in the cage.

Jim gave a last glance around his home and took it in. A few pictures of him and his Navy buddies lined the walls. His sister’s family portrait with his niece and brother-in-law sat atop the entertainment center. He might never sleep under this roof again.

“Coyle, we need to get going. The roads will be packed soon if they’re not already and we still need to grab supplies for you,” Jim said.

“Supplies? I thought we were going to Phoenix? Isn’t that only like a five hour drive?”

Jim walked over and extended his hand and helped him off the couch.

“I’ve only packed enough in my bug out bag for one man and one cat. I didn’t plan on having a plus one besides Tigs.”

He picked up the crate under one arm and locked the door. Just in case he got to come back he wanted to make sure his things stayed where they were. He loaded Tigs in between himself and Coyle and backed out of the driveway.

He pulled out his phone and searched “Sister” under his contacts and hit dial. Nothing. He hit the call button again, but it still didn’t ring. He checked the signal on his phone. No reception.

“Hey, let me see your phone,” Jim asked.

Coyle pulled his phone out from his pocket. He noticed the dry blood on his pant leg, then realized that the majority of his jumpsuit was covered in blood and grease. He quickly unzipped and stripped down to his polo and cargo pants.

“Shit. Something’s wrong with the phone lines. I’m not getting through,” Jim said.

Jim glanced down at his gas tank. He had three quarters of a tank, which was not very comforting. He had planned to fill it up after work that day, but regretted not doing it earlier. They didn’t have enough to get to Phoenix, but enough to put some distance between them and San Diego before they had to stop again.

“Grab the map out of the glove box for me. Check the quickest route to Phoenix and have a few back up routes in case the one we pick is blocked,” Jim said.

The truck flew down the highway and Jim flicked on the radio. News reports began to stream in over the incident at the Naval Base.

“Our reporters on scene say the base has been completely leveled. The targeting of the U.S.S Midway Museum as well as the base itself has the casualty estimates somewhere in the thousands with even more injured.”

“Holy shit,” Coyle said. The broadcaster continued.

“The military has quarantined the entire area and the majority of the crowds have been evacuated. We’re also getting confirmed reports of similar bombs going off in New York and Washington, though we’re unsure of the location of the specific blast sites. We haven’t got any official word from the Pentagon other than they’re ‘gathering information’, but this reporter believes that these are intentional attacks on U.S. soil. The National Guard has been called in for assistance and control as well as the San Diego Marine Corp Recruit Depot. Right now no further warnings have been issued.”

An advertisement began to play and Jim turned the volume down a bit. Coyle looked at Jim in disbelief.

“New York and Washington D.C.?” Coyle asked.

“See if you can find a grocery store on our way to Phoenix. We still need to get you a few things.”

Coyle came through and ended up finding not only a grocery store, but a camping store in the same shopping mall a few miles up the road. It was on the way and while Jim wanted to avoid any crowded areas, he wanted to make sure he had enough supplies for the two of them if they had to make a sudden change of plans on their way to Phoenix. 

When the exit came up traffic was beginning to increase. Jim wasn’t sure if this was due to it being later in the afternoon and people starting to get off work, or because of the events of what happened. Either way it started to make him a little weary. They pulled into the parking lot and found a spot about a hundred yards away from the entrance to the stores.

Jim checked his holster to ensure it was hidden and cracked the windows for Tigs. He motioned Coyle over to the side of the truck and grabbed the smaller pistol out of the duffle bag.

“You still go shooting every Sunday?” Jim asked.

Coyle took the pistol, checked the chamber, loaded a clip in and clicked the safety on.

“Right after church,” Coyle said.

They split up with Coyle grabbing the things needed from the grocery store, and Jim heading into the camping store.

“You want to stay away from anything perishable. Try and stick with can goods, health bars, instant oatmeal, two one-liter bottle waters, and some multi-vitamins. Make sure the amount of food you get will last you at least three days, but no more than will fit in a pack about my size. Got it?” Jim asked.

Coyle nodded as he jotted down the list of things to grab.

“Once you get your food you’ll also want to grab a few other things like disinfectant wipes, large band aides, gauze, cotton balls, ibuprofen, aloe, a lighter, duct tape, and a pack of AA batteries. Meet me back at the truck in twenty minutes.” Jim said.