Hidden (Final Dawn) (2 page)

     “Talk about what?”

     “Your dream. Or whatever else is bothering you.”

     He stopped and looked into her eyes.

     “I’ve had the same dream several times now. I’ve been dreaming that despite all our planning, despite everything we did to prepare, that we missed some things. Some very important things. The dream is not specific. But I see everyone here very sad. And I get the feeling that we missed something, and something really bad happens.”

     “Honey, you know we couldn’t plan for every single possibility. We did the best we could given the time we had. Whatever does or doesn’t happen in the years ahead, we will weather this storm together. And we’ll survive.”

     “You promise?”

     “You’re darn tootin’ I promise.”

Chapter 2

     Another week went by, and it seemed there were still a thousand and one things they had to do. Saris had hit earth exactly two weeks before, and outside most of the earth’s population was either already dead or getting very close to it.

     Inside the mine, though, these forty people were still trying to make the adjustment, and were settling into a routine.

     “Hey,” Bryan said. “I finally got a volunteer to help out at the water plant.”

     Mark asked “Who?”

     “Brad. He’ll do a good job. He’s old school like me. He’ll make sure the job gets done right.

     Sarah almost choked on her breakfast and looked at
Bryan.

     “Old school? You? Mr. Party Animal? The guy who smuggled 12 cases of tequila in here and added it to our essential supplies?”

     Bryan chuckled and said “Hey, if we’re going to be here for seven years, that’s seven new year’s eves. And we can’t ring in a new year without having something to celebrate with.”

     Hannah was a bit more somber.

     “Well, personally, I think every year we survive this hell is a celebration unto itself. But I agree with you, Bryan. Brad will do a good job. How are the rest of the volunteer positions going? Is everything filled yet?”

     “Everything except the power plant helper. I think we can probably talk Robert into doing it. He’s got some electrician experience from way back when. Right now he’s helping John with security, though, so it’ll be a few weeks before he’s available.”

     “How long do you think we’ll have to be on heightened security?”

     Mark said, “I’m going to talk to John about it on my way to the farm. I’ll get his opinion, but I’m thinking until the snow gets too deep for people to drive. As long as the roads are still clear, anybody can just drive right up to our door and start trying to figure out how to get in. Once the roads are out of commission, they’ll have to hike to us in deep snow. And we’re four miles from the nearest house. That’s when I’ll finally feel safe enough to scale back on security a bit.”

     Sami
,
Sarah’s best friend, stepped over to their table.

     She asked, “Have y’all seen the latest on CNN?”

     “No.”

     “Come on over when you get finished eating. It’s getting worse and worse out there. And CNN is saying they’ll only be on the air for a few more days.”

     Sarah went into a funk. In past days she’d stayed glued to the television for hours at a time. As depressing as it was, it was also… fascinating. The whole world was crashing down around them. Millions of people were dying, and those still alive were becoming increasingly desperate.

     But she knew that someday, she and the others in the mine would be the only surviving witnesses for hundreds of miles. It was important to her that she was able to give her unborn children, and their children, an accurate picture of what happened when Saris 7 hit the earth.

     And besides, there wasn’t much else to do.

     She kissed
Bryan and said “See you later.” Then she looked at Hannah and asked if she wanted to come.

     Hannah said “You guys go ahead. I’ll join you in a bit.”

     Bryan left too, saying he needed to refuel generator number one and do preventative maintenance on generator number two. Until he got his backup away from the security detail and trained, he was the only certified electrician available to keep the power flowing and the lights on. For the next few weeks, he’d be a busy man.

     “Well, here we are, alone again, sailor boy.” Hannah said. What’s on your agenda this morning?

     “Well, I have my daily date with the other woman in my life. She just can’t stand to go through her morning without my tender touch. I’m going to pull a few more pallets of cattle feed out of Bay 16 and put it closer to the livestock so I don’t have to lug it so far. And, I have to work with Mike and Stewart to teach them how to drain the gray water tanks on the RVs. I walked past one yesterday that was overflowing, and we can’t afford to waste the water.”

     Hannah leaned over and kissed her husband.

     “Well, you go ahead and see Sally and caress her the way she likes it. Just don’t get so attached to her that I start feeling jealous.”

     “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll always be the number one star on my hit parade.”

     Hannah went to join the girls and catch the latest developments on CNN.

     Mark walked to the livestock area in Bay 17, grabbed a bucket and stool and walked to the corner of the bay where a three hundred pound jersey cow stood with her udder full, ready for her daily milking.

     “Hello, Sally. You look happy to see me.”

Chapter 3

     The girls weren’t alone in Bay 8. The lounge area Mark and Bryan had constructed the year before very nicely accommodated up to twenty people comfortably, with several couches, recliners and easy chairs.

     On this particular morning, there wasn’t an empty seat in the house. The children weren’t there, of course. They were in school in one of the mine’s two one-room school houses in Bay 6. No, these were all adults. And that was good, because much of what they were seeing would have caused nightmares for the young and weak hearted.

     Outside the safety of the mine, society had broken down and chaos was the order of the day. At least half of America had already perished. Those that remained were the steadfast  and gutsy who were convinced they were tough enough to stick out a seven year winter. Or those just too stubborn not to least try.

     The temperature had dropped to between five and ten degrees and had pretty much stabilized. It was the dead of winter, after all. The scientists who told the world of the “nuclear winter” explained that the earth would still have seasons. It would still be warmer in the summer, whenever the earth was closer to the sun, and colder in the winter when the sun was farther away.

     They wouldn’t be seasons like everyone was used to, however. Even on the dog days of summer, in mid to late August, the highs would not get above twenty five degrees. At least not initially.

     As the years went by, and more of the dust in the atmosphere settled, the temperatures would rise slowly. But it would take awhile. What the scientists pretty much agreed on was that the temperatures would not rise above freezing anywhere on earth for at least four years.

     In the fourth year, they said, perhaps those countries on the equator would see five to ten days above thirty two degrees, in the hottest part of the summer.

     In the fifth year, those five to ten days might stretch to twenty or thirty at the equator, and those countries five hundred to a thousand miles north and south of the equator would experience their own five to ten days above freezing. Then the following year, the equator might have forty five to sixty days of temperatures above freezing.

      The problem, the scientists said, was that the earth had never gone through this before. At least not in recorded history. They all had their theories, but nothing had been proven or even substantiated. There was no way to accurately determine how long the earth would take to warm again.

     In even the best case scenarios, though, citizens were told it would be at least five to seven years before they’d be able to live normal lives again. Five to seven years before there were enough warm days each year to grow crops. To reestablish civilization. To once again live anything like they were used to living.

     And, they were warned, for those who stuck it out, for those who wanted to survive, it was going to be anything but easy. All precipitation would now be in the form of ice and snow. And it wouldn’t melt. Couldn’t melt. It would be just too damn cold. No, it would accumulate instead. Would eventually be several feet high. And then, when the thaws finally did come, it would take a very long time to melt it all. And when it did melt the floods would come.

     No, it wouldn’t be pretty. Wouldn’t be pretty at all.

     On the television screen, a CNN reporter was broadcasting from Atlanta, and explaining that the city of Atlanta’s power plant was expecting to go off line within a week. Its coal reserves were running down, and it hadn’t switched to diesel or natural gas as many other cities had done in recent years. The coal plants in Pennsylvania and West Virginia were shutting down. They could no longer find miners who were willing to go underground for eight hours a day and get covered in cancer-causing dust to chip coal from the ground so that people a thousand miles away could be comfortable.

     The dollar was worthless now. What good were wages if they couldn’t be spent? Miners in
West Virginia and Pennsylvania were busy gathering coal for their own use now. For use in the coal burning stoves that would keep their homes warm for seven long years.

     Or they were leaving those homes in search of somewhere better.

     The CNN reporter went on. Once the lights went out for good in Atlanta, the network had about a week’s supply of diesel for their generators. When that ran dry, they’d be off the air for good. Or at least until the thaw came in seven years. After that, no one really knew what would happen. Or what the world would look like.

     In the meantime, they would continue to report the news twenty four/seven, just as they always had. They still felt a duty, despite all that had happened, to keep their viewers informed.

     The anchor switched from the studio in Atlanta to a reporter in Kansas City. Kansas City had just implemented the first government run mass suicide facility in the country. And it was not lacking for customers.

     The concept was simple. Offer a painless and effective way to die for the doomed, and most people would choose the easy way out.

     So Kansas City took a basketball arena. And they made it airtight. And outside they brought in eight high powered gasoline generators. Each one of them was hauled in on the back of an eighteen wheeler and was as big as a locomotive. By running the generators at full capacity for two hours, and by connecting their exhausts to the air intakes for the arena’s ventilation fans, they were able to gas twenty thousand people at a time. Quickly, efficiently and painlessly.

     The CNN cameras showed a long line of families queued up outside the facility. Most of them had forlorn and resigned looks on their faces and many were in tears. Virtually all of them were holding hands, relishing the last hours of their lives together.

     The network switched to another camera just inside the building, where the families were slowly filing past tables staffed with nurses in crisp white uniforms. Each was handed a dose of a heavy sedative and offered a choice of Kool-Aid or various flavors of soft drinks to wash the pills down with.

     The CNN reporter noted succinctly that none of the drinks offered had caffeine which might slow the effects of the sedative. He also noted that children and babies were given the same heavy dosage as the adults. It would knock them out first, of course. But that was the intent.

     The adults were handed flyers with simple instructions. Since the sedatives had already been taken, their children would fall asleep in between ten to twenty minutes, depending on their weight and level of anxiety. The parents would follow suit in forty five minutes to an hour. They had that long to find their own corner of the arena to spend the rest of their time together and to relax and say their goodbyes. If they chose to, there were twelve thousand folding cots laid out throughout the facility, on the basketball court and on all the concourses. They could lie down if they wished while they waited to fall asleep.

     Dozens of ministers and priests were going around the facility administering last rites and providing solace where they could. In most cases, though, the citizens of
Kansas City had already accepted their fate and said their prayers.

     Once the building was filled to capacity, a loud horn would sound to tell all medical personnel and clergy they had twenty minutes to clear the building.

     After twenty minutes the doors were sealed and the generators were powered up. After two hours they would be turned off again and the doors reopened.