Primitive. Part 26

I lay back down next to Tracy and cradled her in my arms. I'd never felt so helpless in my life.

For the first time since this whole terrible ordeal happened I cried myself to sleep.

Twenty Four It took two days to reach our destination just outside of Lawrence, Kansas.

An hour before dawn, on the day we started out, Martin shook me out of sleep. "It's time," he said, retreating into the shadows. I sprang out of bed and proceeded to wake up Tracy.

An hour later we were pulling out of the compound in the Hummer. I had mixed feelings of apprehension and regret as we pulled away. Prior to the events of the last two days, I'd been entertaining thoughts of spending my remaining years here, of seeing Emily grow into a woman, of Tracy and I living our sunset years in that Montana luxury cabin, in a world that had moved on.

It was like leaving our home in Pasadena, in a way.

I drove. Wesley sat up front with me while Tracy, Emily, and Martin sat in the backseat. Martin slept for three hours while Wesley maintained a silent and caffeine-fueled watch from the shotgun seat, rifle cradled in his lap.

By the time the morning sun was burning bright in the sky we'd made fifty miles and Wesley had given me the lowdown of his conversation with Bob Atkins and several key government figures he'd talked to.

It came as no surprise that the US government was still functioning, albeit in a very stripped-down manner. Wesley explained to me that decades ago, in preparation for a possible all-out nuclear attack on the US, the government had built a labyrinthine system of underground bunkers for key government officials, that were fully equipped with state-of-the-art generators that would power the country's missile defense and communications system. When civilization fell, certain engagements took place. People a.s.sumed certain roles and duties. Chain of command was shifted, re-shifted, and put forth. Proper defensive and offensive measures were initiated. And a week after the dust settled, those few who were left remained sequestered in their hidden underground bunkers, secretly monitoring everything going on above via hidden cameras and spy satellites (thanks to a largely still functioning monitoring system) and quietly planning and debating the next move.

It came as no surprise that the Executive Branch and every member of the House and Senate, with the exception of Bob Atkins, was dead. That made Bob Atkins the de facto President of the United States in accordance with the US Const.i.tution. In addition to Bob Atkins, holed up underneath the DC area were surviving members of the FBI, the CIA, and the Pentagon. Wesley said he was surprised to hear that his former CO from his earliest days in the military, Colonel Henderson, was now in command of all branches of the military. "The resources are spread very thin," Wesley said. He leaned against the door and I could see the fatigue in his eyes, but he was very animated, very much awake. "The total population of the US is probably what it was shortly before the Revolutionary War and spread out in a much greater range. But we're in command. And those in government that survived have been quietly making preparations and making contacts with those on duty around the country. This virus wiped out a lot of people, David. A lot of guys on various bases didn't make it. We saw that back at Edwards. But those who did make it kept hold of their posts and have managed to remain there. Others have been dispatched to secure locations."

"What about overseas?" I asked. Tracy listened quietly in the backseat. Emily was still asleep, her head resting on Tracy's shoulder.

"Communications have been established with England, Germany, France, Sweden, Russia, j.a.pan, and Australia. They're reporting ma.s.sive casualties. All of them except for Sweden suffered ma.s.sive casualties of their government. In fact, Sweden's prime minister went so far as to say that what happened was America's fault and that we should be held accountable. Atkins was quick to clamp down on that bulls.h.i.t. I don't think he had any idea of what happened in the weeks that preceded the outbreak, but I'm sure he has his theories."

"So what's going to happen?" Tracy asked.

Wesley was silent for a moment. We'd seen no huge gatherings of primitives so far on the drive south, just a few scattered here and there. Those we did see immediately ran away. "There's a facility outside of Lawrence, Kansas. It's a nuclear missile silo. Henderson brought up my credentials in the system when I verified my ident.i.ty and dispatched me there. I didn't tell him about you guys, and he has no knowledge I'm being accompanied by civilians. If he knew, he would have ordered me to leave you back at that cabin."

I felt my body stiffen at the implications. "Thank you," I managed to say.

Wesley acknowledged my thanks. "It's quite possible we'll run into trouble at Lawrence. I'm to meet with two members of the 41st Division at the silo. I'm sure Henderson has briefed them. In addition to myself, a hundred other survivors with my background have been dispatched to other missile silos around the country. Twenty of them didn't make it. Primitives probably got them. Once I arrive, I'm to make an inspection and report back to Henderson. Then, I'm to await his signal."

"Signal for what?" Dumb question, because I knew what the order was going to be, but I had to hear it from Wesley's lips.

"On Henderson's signal I'm to launch a nuclear missile at Kansas City." Wesley's voice and features were grim. "Ten other facilities are to launch at various other locations in North and South America. Likewise, England is to launch a missile into Jordan, and Germany is to hit Pakistan and India."

"Why?" Tracy asked from the backseat. "Hasn't there been enough bloodshed already?"

"It's the only way to eliminate as many primitives as possible in order to stop Hanbi's influence," Wesley said.

I let the implications sink in. "So Atkins believes...he knows..."

"We all know, David." Wesley swung a gaze at me. "Even the most atheistic among us is facing the reality of what's happening. Atkins himself told me that one of the Pentagon members, a staunch atheist, was the first to make the recommendation after numerous conferences with people around the country and the world. Professor Campbell has been instrumental in providing a lot of archeological and historical background as well. We heard enough of what she had to say last night."

There was no use in arguing the point. I knew he was telling the truth. Believed it in my heart, in my mind. Unlike creationists who would not accept the science of tectonic plate theory forming continents, or the science of carbon dating because it flew in the face of the Genesis story of G.o.d creating the world in six days, I had to admit that, based on the evidence, and from what I'd witnessed, Hanbi was not only very real, he had to be destroyed.

For once it seemed like reason was beginning to prevail among mankind.

"This is bad," I said, the implications running through me.

"No s.h.i.t, it's bad," Tracy said. She drew her legs up, hugging her knees. Tears were streaming down her face. "Who knows how many innocent people might be caught up in this."

"For the past week the military has been sending a signal through as many radio channels," Wesley said. "They're warning those who are still normal and are able-bodied to leave various cities immediately. According to the existing intelligence, the message is getting through, and those lucky enough to have lived through the initial primitive onslaught are doing everything they can to get out. We're continuing the message, though, and I think it's safe to say that within a week-which is the deadline they've been given-the cities in question will be largely devoid of normal people."

"That's when we'll strike," I said.

"Yes," Wesley confirmed. "That's when we'll strike."

Once again, I thought of the implications. Every image from every post-apocalyptic novel or film I'd ever read or watched that took place during and after a nuclear holocaust came to mind. Radiation sickness. Nuclear winter.

Was this going to be worth it?

I voiced this concern to Wesley.

"It's a new era now," Wesley said after a pause. "A new world. For the future of civilization, we must take extreme measures to ensure the safety of those who have survived to pave the way for future generations. I'm hoping this first wave of strikes will be enough to wipe out enough primitives that it will sufficiently weaken or eliminate Hanbi's hold."

"And if not?" Tracy asked.

Wesley didn't have an answer for that.

We camped out that night at a rest stop off Interstate 25 in Wyoming. Martin kept watch, being pretty much officially on graveyard shift for watch duty. Wesley gave him a debriefing when he awoke that afternoon, and he spent the afternoon in silence as Wesley slept.

The few primitives we saw on our way to that first stop for the night were quickly dealt with. We didn't even bother shooting at those who were far away-it was best to save the ammunition for those we knew were sure kills.

Meals consisted of canned goods heated over a fire Martin got going at the deserted campsite. It was then that Tracy got a better look at the bite mark on my arm. It had bled off and on throughout the day and throbbed with pain consistently, and she concurred with Wesley's statement from last night. "This has to be st.i.tched up." Then, with the help of some Vicodin that was pilfered from the medicine cabinet in the cabin before we left, and a sterilized needle and thread, Tracy patched me up. The pain was ferocious the first time needle penetrated skin, but lessened as my endorphins kicked in, providing a natural pain blocker as the impromptu surgery continued. By the time she was halfway through, that and the combination of the Vicodin had me good and stoned.

As we sat around the campfire that evening, Wesley retreated to the Hummer and talked with somebody on the radio. I had the sense that what he was saying was secret, and again I felt resentful. My paranoid mind kept wondering what he was keeping from us.

The following morning I felt hot and feverish. Tracy redressed my wound. "You need some penicillin." She said. She dipped into the first aid kit, rummaged around and pulled a bottle out. "Here." I gulped two capsules down, ignoring the frightened look on her face. I didn't want to think about infection now. I had to get through this, had to get my family to safety.

After siphoning gas from an abandoned vehicle an hour into our drive (something we'd learned from Heather, obviously), we crossed into Colorado and continued south. Deciding to bypa.s.s Fort Collins and take secondary roads heading east, we left the main highway and headed down into the plains. We pa.s.sed little evidence of primitives on the way. There were some abandoned vehicles along the side of the road-some stalled or crashed in the middle of the highway, or on the gra.s.sy center divide-but we navigated around those occasional roadblocks easily. By the end of the day we were in Kansas. We'd reach the outskirts of Lawrence that night if we continued at the pace we were going.

By this time Wesley was driving and Tracy was riding shotgun with him, tending guard duty. I was lying in the backseat, feeling woozy and sick. The few times I touched my arm it felt swollen and hot. When Tracy changed my dressing that afternoon the infection had spread, swelling my upper arm, the wound itself oozing yellow and green pus. I took more penicillin, trying to keep a stiff upper lip.

Martin a.s.sisted with navigating, and between him and Tracy they guided Wesley to the missile silo. I drifted to sleep, and when I woke up it was night and we were parked outside a chain-linked fence. Beyond the fence lay a nondescript building.

Wesley was speaking into a microphone that was set up near a gate. There was a camera pointed at us. I only caught a s.n.a.t.c.h of what was being said as I wavered in and out of consciousness. "...been with them since the Havoc Virus struck...infection...needs medical attention...a child of four years of age..." I heard Wesley identify us by name. Heard somebody on the other end say that they were told not to allow civilians into the premises. Heard a female voice in the background-not Tracy's-say she would a.s.sume responsibility. There was a brief argument and then the unseen female won. The gate opened and Wesley drove through.

The last thing I remembered was being carried out of the back seat of the Hummer, with Tracy supporting my right side, Martin supporting my left. I remember seeing Wesley talk to two soldiers, both young, a male and female. I remember him gesturing at us, remember him clearly saying, "...these people have put their a.s.ses on the line. They're f.u.c.king heroes, so as your commanding officer I am ordering you to give them sanctuary in this facility!"

And as I pa.s.sed them I clearly heard the female soldier say, "Don't worry Colonel Smitts, they'll be safe."

And then, I blacked out again.

This time, I didn't come out of it for another week.

Twenty Five That part of our story is over. And if you're reading these pages, you'll know it's not really over. We're still facing the uncertainty, just as you are.

Suffice it to say, this is the new dawn, a new era. Civilization was not wiped out in a cataclysmic nuclear attack, or a meteor, or the shifting of the earth's alignment with the sun, causing ma.s.sive natural strife. Civilization ended three years before the Mayans predicted it would, too.

Sometimes I wonder if the Mayans knew of Hanbi.

I wonder if they knew this would eventually happen.

The first thing I saw when I came awake the first time was Emily.

She was sitting beside me on a narrow cot. The room was dark, but there was a nightlight plugged into an electrical outlet. Emily was sitting calmly by my side, looking down at me, as if expecting me to wake up any minute.

I smiled when I saw her. "Emily..."

She smiled back. "Daddy!"

"Where's your mother?"

"In the bunker," she said. I didn't know what she meant by that term. I was confused. For the first time I noticed something taped to my left arm and looked at it. An IV. I also noticed that I was wearing a white hospital gown.

"Where are we?"

"We're beneath the earth, Daddy!" Emily said.

"Get...your mother..." I said, my mind swimming with hazy images.

Emily nodded and scampered off the bed. She hesitated and for a minute she looked sad, like she was about to burst out crying at any minute. As quickly as it came, a sudden strength seemed to come over her and she took my hand in both her little ones. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, pumpkin."

"I'll always be proud of you."

"I'll always be proud of you, too."

"I'm gonna go get Mommy."

"Okay."

She exited the room and unconsciousness claimed me again.

When I came back to consciousness, Tracy was with me. Something about her features bothered me. I recognized that look immediately. She was hiding something. Something bad had happened and she was trying to hide her emotions.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Tracy shook her head. Her lips quivered ever so slightly. The first sign of cracking under the strain.

"How long have I been out?"

"A week."

I let this sink in. I no longer felt sick, no longer felt hot and feverish. I felt pretty good. Tired, but pretty good.

So what was wrong?

"What happened?"

Tracy ignored my question. "How do you feel?" She felt my forehead.

"I'm fine."

She examined me, looked at my bandaged arm, and I could tell there was something she wasn't telling me. She spilled the beans midway through her examination. "The missiles were launched yesterday," she said, her voice deadpan. "We're safe. Wesley and...some of the others we've been in communication with say that the weather patterns for the next few days should keep the fallout away from us." A heavy sigh. "Home is going to be...uninhabitable for awhile." She started crying silently.

I immediately knew what she was getting at. Home. Pasadena, California. Los Angeles itself had probably been a target, with its heavy population. It made sense when you considered a majority of the population in Southern California had been reduced to their most primitive state. If Tracy was holding on to any hope of ever returning to home, even if those hopes were mere wish fulfillment, they were now shattered. Southern California was probably going to remain uninhabitable for the remainder of our lifetime.

"What about Hanbi?" I asked.

Tracy sighed, wiped tears from her cheeks. "It's still...too early to tell if the launch has had an effect. Emily doesn't have a read yet."

"What do you mean?"

Tracy looked at me. "Emily says Hanbi is still out there and he's angry. He's...flying around, crashing into things. She says he's furious. Says...he's trying to get into anybody he can and..."

"How many primitives were killed?" I persisted. "Is there any idea? Even an estimate?"

"Millions." Tracy sat down at the right side of my bed. She took my hand. "New York, Philadelphia, DC, Atlanta, Chicago, Kansas City, Los Angeles...millions...probably plenty of people like us, too. People who were unable to escape the cities in time..."

I felt my heart lurch at the mention of Chicago. "Tim?"

"Got out a day after we arrived. He's actually here with a couple other people. One of them's a doctor. I should get her now. She'll want to know you're awake." Tracy stood up and looked down at me, once again that look coming over her face, that look that told me she was worried about something and was afraid to tell me.

Another spike drove through my heart. "Is something wrong with Emily?"

Tracy shook her head and mustered a smile. "No. Emily's fine. She's...an insightful little girl. You know that, don't you?"

I did. And now the knowledge of Emily's uncanny gift for precognition swept over me, creating a sense of dread. What was Emily telling them? What did she see?

Did I even want to know?

"Lie down and rest," Tracy said, smoothing my hair back from my brow. "I'll go get Dr. Bush."

I nodded and Tracy left the room.

Dr. Kathryn Bush was about my age and had once been a Family Pract.i.tioner in the greater Chicago area. As she examined me she told me she'd performed minor surgery on my arm the afternoon she arrived. "I'm not going to lie to you, Mr. Spires," she said, putting her stethoscope down after concluding her exam. "You have a serious blood infection. We almost lost you. You're not out of the woods yet, but the fact that you regained consciousness is a very good sign."

"Am I going to lose my arm?" I asked.