Up From the Depths (21 page)

Chapter 46

Safeguard, New Mexico

John Stone lay naked on his back in bed while Allison Drewett, equally as bare, straddled his waist, bucking, heaving, and moaning softly as she rode him to a climax. Stone gripped her hips and thrust up eliciting a louder moan from her.

“Oh God,” Allison gasped out as she felt Stone thrust up harder and erupt inside her. She collapsed onto his chest and tried to catch her breath.

“We have to be careful,” she said between gasps. “We don’t want to reopen your wound.”

Stone kissed the stop of her head.

“It’s worth the risk. If that happens, you’re here to fix it.”

Allison pushed against his chest and sat up, looking down at him.

“John, that’s not the only reason why I’m here.”

He pulled her back down and hugged her.

“I know. There’s another reason. You just can’t get enough of me,” he said holding her tight. “I can think of a couple of reason why I want you here,” he said as he reached his hands down and massaged her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples before rolling them both over, reaching down between their bodies and positioning himself. He entered her smoothly as she arced her head back and moaned softly, gripping his waist as her legs came up alongside his hips.

As the two lovers continued their activities, elsewhere in the former Atlas site, Mecceloni sat and studied a regional map. After the encounter at the food distribution warehouse, he was certain there would be other locations that had been overlooked in the initial chaos immediately following the outbreak. The supplies they already had were mostly from Stone’s vast storage and what they had gathered along the way to Safeguard. With what St. John had on hand, they were set for the basic essentials. Studying the map, he made notes on a small pad about locations that might be worth searching. He had already spoken with Burnett and found out that a lot of the medicines and supplies used by veterinarians could be used for humans. If one of these locations had a veterinarian supply center, they could greatly increase their medical stores.

“Hey! You have to see this,” Cassie said as she entered the room. Mecceloni looked up questionably.

“It’s the president,” she said.

“What?”

“Yeah, he’s on the TV,” she said before turning and heading back to the recreational room.

Mecceloni folded the map and tucked both map and notebook into one of his pants pockets before he followed her. It had been months since any kind of broadcast had been seen or heard. That had been a topic discussion at several occasions within the complex. As he entered the room, he saw most of the group already assembled as St. John adjusted the image on the screen then stepped back.

“My fellow Americans,” the haggard looking man, although still recognizable as the president, said. “You’re all aware of the outbreak that has affected our great nation. I want you all to know that I understand the great sacrifices you have endured. But, for all the despair and defeat rained upon us, we have achieved the greatest triumph, survival. After many hours of debate and long sessions with my advisors, I have decided to take the necessary steps towards realizing that triumph. With sadness, I have ordered a tactical nuclear strike on the areas with the largest concentrations of infected. This operation, like rolling thunder, has already commenced on the east coast. It will move across our nation exterminating as many of the infected that remain in major population centers as possible. While this decision is regrettable, there are no other viable options. The choice to use a military response to a civilian crisis is based on the severity of this event. While civilian agencies are trained to deal with and handle emergencies, this crisis has grown beyond their scope.” The president paused to let that information sink in to those that were listening and watching.

“I’ve been told by my advisors, that this will return the nation to a point where we will only need select and precise force to remove the threat of any remaining afflicted. I’ve been assured that the ordnance used will eradicate whatever virus or biological agent caused this and prevent any further spread.” The president paused and looked down at this notes. “It was with a heavy heart that I agreed to this option, knowing that the lives of American citizens would be placed in peril. The use of low yield, tactical nuclear weapons will eliminate any danger of long term radiation. This decision was not made out of fear or hatred. We do this in the name of the many lives we are failing to save. Within 24 hours, this will all be concluded.” The president looked directly into the camera.

“God willing, we shall claim our homeland again. May God bless and keep the United States of America. Thank you and good night.” The screen changed to the image of the American flag blowing in the wind with the National Anthem playing.

“What’s everyone doing?” Stone asked as he limped into the room with Allison Drewett holding his arm. They had flushed looks to their faces and their hair was damp from the shower.

“The President has ordered a nuclear strike on major cities,” Durst said to a quiet room.

“What?” Both Stone and Drewett asked.

“No shit. The big man just announced it,” Durst confirmed.

“How does that affect us?” Sharon asked. St. John stepped closer and hugged her.

“We’ll be safe here,” he said. “This place is in the middle of nowhere and not close to any major cities.”

“What about Clovis?” Mecceloni asked.

“Clovis? No. Too small. Albuquerque would be more a larger city,” St. John said.

The rest of the group was silent as they thought about what the president’s speech meant. Sharon tucked her head into St. John’s chest and quietly sobbed. Durst looked over at his sister, stared at her for several seconds in quiet contemplation, then nodded his head. Their parent’s both lived in a suburb of Los Angeles. This was the first time he had really thought about that. He sat down in a chair and stared at a spot on the floor as the realization set in. All this time, he had been focused on other topics. Now, with this new information, it really put into perspective how serious this was.

Allison Drewett looked at Stone with wide eyes. She had a sister that lived outside of St. Louis. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since their parents had died and left them the family farm. Her sister was more suited to staying and working the small cattle and dairy operation. She gripped Stone’s arm hard then put her head on his shoulder. The euphoria she had felt from their recent love making now just a fleeting memory.

Stone stared at the flag image on the television until the screen went to gray snow. He didn’t have any close friends besides Frank. Most of his ‘friends’ were professional either from his salvage yard or his other line of business. And Allison, his girlfriend.
Girlfriend?
he asked himself.
Fuck buddy? Friend with benefits?
He didn’t know how to classify the relationship he had with her.
Damn,
he thought.
Spanish Eddie. If anyone could make it through all this, Eddie could.

Cassie sat down at the same table as Mecceloni and reached out her hand to his. She squeezed his hand and looked at him. He looked back at her and winked. She didn’t have anyone that she was close with except Mecceloni. The last time she had seen her mother was when she was arrested for shoplifting and the state child welfare protective agency came and got her. She had been sent to live with an aunt and uncle whom she barely knew. When she turned sixteen, she had started slipping out of the house at night and with another girl from school, drove across the state line. Once in Nevada, and armed with forged identification, she had started working strip clubs as a dancer. The occasional friendships that had occurred were more professional than anything else. There was no one she would miss that might still be alive.

Mecceloni mechanically held Cassie’s hand. His mind was somewhere else. He knew that this announcement meant that although times had already changed, they were far from returning to normal any time soon. His thoughts directed him towards the map and notebook in his back pocket. Foraging through a city was no longer an option. He would have to redirect his efforts to small towns and out of way vacation locations.

“This is it then?” Jessica Burnett asked as she looked around the room. “This means it’s all over?”

“I don’t know,” Durst said. “Maybe.”

“No. No. What I mean is, this is it. The end of the world,” Burnett said. “All this,” she said gesturing around, “it’s all over.”

“It’s not over,” Durst said as he stood up and walked towards Burnett. “It’s not over by a long shot.”

“You think so?” she asked. “Once those nukes start falling, that’s it. It’s over. We’re all going to die. No more food. No more water. We’re all dead when the supplies run out or we start dropping from radiation poisoning.”

Durst reached out for her but she turned and ran from the room before he could stop her.

“Is it really over?” Drewett asked.

“I don’t know,” Stone said. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.”

***

Chapter 47

Port Winthrop Naval Base, Washington State

BB-63,
Missouri
was moored to the replenishment dock, taking on supplies and illuminated by the work lights as its crew performed maintenance evolutions. The three naval captains, Powell, Greerson, and O’Reilly, stood inside one of the supply buildings, looking at the battleship.

“Never thought I’d see an Iowa class outside of a museum,” Greerson said. The three men continued watching the ship as it was replenished.

“Must have been a helluva thing sailing her all the way from Hawaii,” Powell said. “I hear you didn’t have radar until about a day out of port.”

“Yes. We didn’t have the radar up and running until about a day out of port,” O’Reilly said. “Sailing Mo from Hawaii was an adventure. She’s a great ship and I have an excellent crew.”

“Captain!” a sailor called out from the interior of the building. All three men turned as a seaman jogged up, saluted, and handed a slip of paper to Powell. The captain of the
Claggett
read the note then gave the sailor a questioning look.

“Has this been verified?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

Powell handed the note to Greerson who quickly read it then handed it to O’Reilly.

“Lord all mighty,” O’Reilly commented.

“You got that right,” Greerson said as he patted his pockets for a cigar.

“You know what this means?” Powell asked the other two men.

“I do,” Greerson said.

O’Reilly nodded his eyes unfocused as he thought about the ramifications of what he had just read. He walked a short distance away, shaking his head slowly. In all the years that he had been in service, there had been times when tensions had been high between the superpowers. Now, this was something that he had never considered would happen. He turned and walked back to the other officers, nodding his head.

“I suppose that I didn’t want to accept the severity of the situation,” he said. “This,” he said holding up the dispatch. “Really hits it home.” He looked at the two active duty officers. “I can only imagine that the procedures I was trained in have changed over the years. What do we do now?”

“We lock it down like Cascade is doing. Put everyone inside. In a basement or someplace similar,” Greerson said. “If we were more mobile and had the time, we’d put everyone on a ship and head out to sea. Get as far away from major port cities as possible.”

Powell nodded agreement. If the
Claggett
was still an active boomer, he’d be taking part in this strike.

“We’re not close to any major cities. Seattle is way the hell north of here,” he said. “Our best bet would be to batten down the hatches and ride this out.”

O’Reilly nodded then slapped the memo into the palm his hand.

“Never thought I’d see this happen,” he said, shaking his head.

“None of us did,” Greerson said.

***

Chapter 48

Brooks Mountain Range, Alaska

Several levels below the SEALs, ODA-141 emerged with their prisoner into the section of the facility already secured by the Rangers.

“Who do you have there?” Captain Harris asked seeing the hooded Conley.

“Possible HVP,” O’Toole answered while pushing Conley ahead of him and towards the main hangar.

The Rangers parted and let the Special Forces soldiers through. The fire in the hangar had been put out and the Air Force Special Operations Weather had set up just inside the main door. They looked up as the soldiers entered then returned to their work. O’Toole pushed Conley outside and towards the opening between two of the buildings.

His men took up flanking positions facing out as O’Toole removed the hood and pushed Conley into a space between the buildings. Conley stumbled then regained his footing, looking back at O’Toole with venom. The blood on his face had dried and now with the sudden decrease of temperature, the warm liquid froze to his features. O’Toole stepped forward and kicked Conley in the ass, causing him to fall and slide on the snow. Conley struggled to his knees then looked back at the officer.

“What you going to do now, tough guy?” Conley slurred out with a wheeze and whistle from his broken nose and swollen jaw. “I know my rights.” He punctuated the sentence by spitting out a glob of blood and mucus onto the snow.

“Outlaw-6, what is your location?” Harris’ voice asked in O’Toole’ earpiece. “Outlaw-6, please respond,”

O’Toole reached down and turned off his radio then dropped out the magazine in his rifle looking at the remaining rounds then checked his vest for more full magazines but came up empty. He let the rifle hang from its sling as he brought the shotgun from around his back and pumped a 12 gauge round into the chamber.

“What you going to do, sol’jer boy? Execute me? For what? My only crime is the betterment of mankind,” Conley slurred, a grin forming on his ruined, bloody visage like an evil rictus.

“You have to read me my rights,” he slurred. “I know my rights, you have to arrest me.”

Conley tried to chuckle but ended up coughing and spitting more blood and mucus.

“I’m not a cop. This isn’t an arrest. There are no rights for what you’ve done. That’s a matter between you and your conscience,” O’Toole said.

“My conscience is clear. I’m only responsible for releasing what was already inside us all. The ones that died,” Conley shrugged his shoulders. “They were the weak ones, the ones that the herd should have cut loose. Survival of the fittest.”

“A lot of good people died because of you. People who were my friends, people who were better than you,” O’Toole stated looking at the shotgun in his hands. “People who are so far above you that you aren’t even fit to shine their boots.”

Conley tried to laugh but started coughing instead as blood flowed into his throat.

“They died so the world could be a better place without them. Don’t you see? They were using up resources that can now be put to use for the good of all. I brought balance into the world.”

“Where have I heard that shit before? You killed millions, billions possibly, and you call that bringing balance?” O’Toole asked.

“Kill a few people and you’re a murderer. Kill millions and you’re a god,” Conley slurred through his broken jaw. “My plan was to create Utopia. And it hasn’t fully come to fruition yet.” He looked hard at O’Toole, “I won’t be the first god martyred for creation.”

O’Toole grabbed Conley by the collar, pulled him to his feet one handed and spun him around pressing the shotgun barrel to the back of his head.

“You’re not a god. Gods create, you destroy. You’re just a worthless piece of shit,” he said pushing the barrel of the shotgun against Conley’s head with enough force to make the man’s head tilt forward.

“With every creation, there is destruction. You should know that,” Conley lisped. “You can’t kill me, boy. I
am
a God. I’ve created a new world. I brought order out of chaos, purity out of filth. Once again, Mother Earth will be strong without the threat of man. I eliminated those that were raping her, destroying the natural beauty. Why can’t you see that? My name will be in the history books as the man who brought hope and change to the world,” Conley said with vigor. “I will be a historical figure. The one man who changed the way of human kind. My name and actions will be revered by the masses. My actions have balanced the scales.”

For a brief instant, the faces of the people O’Toole had known, his dead team mates, the Z-Corps group, his ex-wife, and everyone else that he had known that were dead or probably dead because of this man’s actions, flashed through his mind. Closing his eyes, he lowered his head and took a deep breath then looked up.

“Balance this,” O’Toole said as he let go of Conley’s collar and pulled the trigger.

Conley’s headless body fell forward, the blood melting and staining the frozen ground until it coagulated into a red smear that was slowly covered by the blowing snow. Turning away, O’Toole started the walk back towards the main facility.

“Looks like you’re already history,” O’Toole said as he worked the action on the SPAS-12 watching the spent shell arc out.

Snow was already collecting between the buildings to cover the body of a man who thought he could change the world.

***