Doomsday

9. Eve of Destruction

Ben Thomas’s idea was to take Interstate 90 all the way across Washington and Idaho into Montana and then take Interstate 94 into northern Minnesota.

Things went fine as far as Spokane. They were able to get gas. He was careful not to let his fuel drop below half so he always had plenty to spare. Traffic wasn’t the pain he expected it to be. A lot of folks were holed up in their homes, awaiting the next development in the spreading global conflict. Space drove him nuts using the radio. She was constantly running up and down the dial looking for stations with the latest news. He almost told her to stop—but when she was playing with the radio she was usually preoccupied and quiet, and there was only so much of her chatter he could take. The girl about talked his head off.

It was as they were pulling out of Ellensburg that Space told Ben about her parents. Her father had been an alcoholic, her mother a druggie. When they hadn’t been abusing each other, they had been abusing her. She had taken it until she was twelve and then she skipped. She had gone to live with an aunt who had always treated her nicely, but the aunt had a son her age who thought she was the hottest treat on two legs and couldn’t keep his hands off her. So Space had skipped again and wound up living on the street.

“It wasn’t bad at first. I had a little money so I could eat. I found a condemned building and lived in a room with a lock on the door so I could sleep safe at night. I stayed away from other street people. The few who knew I was hiding there left me alone. But the good vibes didn’t last. They never do.”

“Why didn’t you go to the state for help? They could have found you a foster home.”

“Would you want to live with people you didn’t know? People who might have hang-ups of their own?” Space shook her head and her bangs swished. “No, I figured I was better off on my own. Even when the money ran out and I had to make do any way I could.”

“You started turning tricks?”

Space cackled in glee and slapped her leg. “Only a man would think of that before anything else. I’m no skank. My body is mine, and making it with strangers isn’t my idea of fun.” She shook her head again. “I mainly stole to live. At first it was food. I’d go into a grocery store and stick stuff down my skirt.” Ben had been meaning to ask about her clothes. She wore all black, like one of those Goths. “What if the food fell out before you made it out the door?”

“I wore my skirt inside out so the pocket was on the inside. I’d slip whatever I stole into the pocket and waltz out with no one the wiser. Bur I could only take small stuff, and that was a drag. After a couple of hundred candy bars, the sweets aren’t as sweet. Know what I mean?”

“I don’t eat candy much.”

“You will if there’s nothing else you can get your hands on. I ate candy and I ate a lot of fruit. Bananas, mostly. It was easy to slip one into my pocket. I’m partial to pretzels, too. I’d open a bag and grab a handful. You wouldn’t believe how easy it was.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of,” Ben remarked. He wasn’t a stickler for the law, but there were some things he would never do and stealing was one of them.

“Listen to you, Mr. Never Gone Hungry a Day in his Life. When your belly hurts from not eating, when you’re so starved your skin is sticking to your ribs, you’ll do whatever you have to. It’s all about survival.”

“I was a Marine, girl. And I’m black, besides. I know more about surviving than you’ll ever learn.”

“Oh, please. You had it rough because you weren’t born white and you call that surviving?” Ben flared with anger. He could have hit her, but he never hit females unless they were trying to do him harm. “Listen, you snot-nosed brat. What do you know about being black? About what it’s like to be born into a world wearing skin that people hate because it’s different from their own? To be sneered at?

To be spit on? To be called the N word every time you turn around? That’s how it was for me when I was little. But I didn’t care. I gave it right back, and got stronger deep down, where it counts. Strong enough to be a Marine. To be one of the few, the proud. And to be so damn tough, no mother’s son better mess with me or he’ll eat his goddamn teeth.”

“Touched a nerve, huh?”

Ben swore. The race issue always set him off.

“Hey, it’s cool. You don’t take crap from anybody. I admire that. All I’m saying is that you survived in your way and I survived in mine, and for you to look down your nose at me because I did it different isn’t fair.”

Ben thought about it and grudgingly replied, “You have a point. No insult meant.”

“None taken.” Space grinned. “Just think. Two badass survivors like us, this end-of-the-world deal should be a breeze.”

The radio was nothing but war talk. Even the stations that usually played music were doing news, and none of it was good. The war in the Middle East had spread. Russia and China were involved. Israel was fighting for its life. North Korea was marshalling troops along its border with South Korea. A South American dictator had invaded his neighbor.

On the national front, the president appealed for calm. Looting and random violence were everywhere. Martial law would be imposed as soon as the National Guard was fully mobilized.

“What will you do if they close the highways?” Space asked.

Ben hadn’t thought of that. But it didn’t matter. “When I give my word to make a delivery, I keep it.” They made it out of Washington. Ben refueled at Coeur d’Alene and pushed on into the Bitterroot Mountains. Exits were fewer and farther between. Hardly any other vehicles were on the road. There was talk on the radio that Chinese subs had been spotted off the West Coast, that a Russian fleet was bound for the East Coast. Terrorist activity was on the rise. There was worry a U.S. city would be nuked. On and on went the litany of fear.

The Bitterroots were so remote that Ben didn’t anticipate trouble. So long as the gas stations stayed open, he would be all right. But he wasn’t a machine. He’d kept himself awake with caffeine pills, but he needed sleep and he couldn’t put it off any longer. He told Space.

“Fine by me. Get a room with cable. I love movies.”

“Sorry, girl, but I’m not stopping at a motel. I bunk in my cab.”

“Spoilsport.”

The next exit was a small town called Smelterville. Ben had never been there. He slowed to a crawl and braked at a stop sign. A gas station had a Closed sign in the window, but that was all right; the truck had nearly three-quarters of a tank. He wheeled on into Smelterville. The streets were deserted. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“This is spooky.”

Ben was looking for a place to pull over. A sign announced a park. He turned down a side street, the diesel rumbling, and came to a stop next to a grassy knoll speckled by trees and picnic benches. “This will do.” He pulled to the curb and turned off the ignition.

In the sudden silence the quiet around them seemed unnatural. The park was empty of life. Not so much as a bird or a squirrel anywhere. Across the street were a few frame houses and a mobile home, as still as tombstones.

“Where is everyone?” Space nervously asked.

“Trembling in their boots.” Ben pocketed the keys. “I’m climbing in the back for a few hours. You stay put until I wake up. I don’t want you wandering off, you hear?”

Space grinned and gave him a sharp salute. “Sir, yes sir.

“Goof.” Ben parted the curtain and climbed into the bunk. He curled on his side and closed his eyes. As he was drifting off, he thought he heard the rasp of a door handle. Then sleep claimed him.

Deepak Kapur’s heart leaped into his throat. He thought for sure he was going to die. The ship bearing down on the Kull was so close that he swore he could see rivets on its hull, which was preposterous, given that it was night and that except for the ship’s deck lights high above, it was so dark it was a wonder those onboard had spotted the ferry. Then it hit him. They didn’t know the Kull was there. They were blowing the horn for some other reason. A collision was inevitable. He took a step back and braced for the impact, fully expecting to be crushed to pulp. Suddenly the ferry gave a lurch that nearly unbalanced him and the deck tilted at the bow. A high-pitched roaring whine came from under his feet. The next instant the ferry shot forward as if jet propelled. Alf bleated in terror.

The ship was almost on top of them. White lettering identified it as the Coral Sea. Her bow passed so close to the ferry’s stern that Deepak could have reached out and touched it. Then they were in the clear and heading downriver. Collecting his wits, he climbed to the wheelhouse and went in without knocking. Patrick Slayne was at the helm consulting a digital display. He didn’t look up. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“You almost got us killed.”

“I knew the ship was there. I had it on radar. Once I activated the hydrofoil it couldn’t touch us.”

“Hydrofoil?” Deepak was making it a habit of repeating things the man said.

“Didn’t you feel the deck move?” Slayne looked up from the display. “Ever hear the expression, ‘the bigger the boy, the bigger his toys’? As the CEO of Tekco, my toys are the wares my company uses and sells. The Hunster, this hydro, and more you couldn’t imagine. I’m the ultimate tech geek.” Somehow Deepak couldn’t imagine him as a geek of any kind. “What do you plan to pull out of your high-tech grab bag that will get us to Minnesota safe and sound?”

“I’m saving it for a surprise. But first things first.” Slayne consulted the display. “I’m going to bring us in just above the Narrows. From there we’ll cut across to 78.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do.” Slayne turned the wheel while watching the display. “You should give me more credit. But then, Kurt Carpenter did say your psych profile showed you have a superiority complex.”

“What?”

“You tend to think you’re better than everyone else. Sorry, that’s not entirely true. You tend to think that you’re smarter than everyone else. I suppose there’s a difference, but to me it’s all the same.”

“Carpenter let you study my psych profile?” Deepak had understood that all personal information was to be held in the strictest confidence.

“I’m one of the inner circle, Mr. Kapur. I designed the bunkers. I designed a special vehicle you know nothing about. I stocked the armory. In short, anything and everything having to do with security is under my oversight.”

“That’s no excuse for Carpenter letting you see my psych tests.”

“Ah. But it is. Kurt needs you. The people at the compound need you. You’re a genius with computer systems, and we’ll need to rely on our computers heavily for the first ten years or so.”

“Ten years?”

“Projections, analysis, communications, those sorts of things. Don’t worry. The bunkers are shielded. We should be EMP-proof. I say should because the shielding hasn’t been tested under actual combat conditions. We couldn’t hardly set off a nuke, now, could we?”

“But ten years?’

“Maybe longer if the solar arrays and the batteries hold out. No one knows how widespread the aftereffects will be, or even what they’ll be. Oh, radiation is a given. But there are a host of biological and chemical weapons out there, and only a computer can even begin to make sense of the permutations.” Deepak began to realize that this man was more than muscle with a gun. “So that’s why Carpenter thinks I’m essential.”

“You are, Mr. Kapur. The sooner that sinks in, the better we’ll get along. Now why don’t you join your friend? I’ll be busy for the next ten minutes or so.”

Alf was at the rail, his face pale in the starlight. “Listen to that, will you? We’re lucky to be out of it.” From both shores rose the sounds of sirens and wails and occasional screams. Flashing emergency lights pierced the dark. They passed a well-lit pier where people were fighting over small craft.

“If it’s this bad now,” Alf said, “what will it be like when the missiles hit?” He answered his own question. “It’ll be insane. Only the strong will make it, and me, I never was very strong.”

“Just remember you’re not alone. I’ll be at your side, come what may.”

“Thanks, pal.”

The Kull swung in parallel with the shore and bore to the south, still without running lights. Eventually it slowed and the deck dipped until it was level. Ahead was a dock bathed by a single light. Beyond that was a brick building.

“There’s no one around,” Alf observed. “It looks safe enough.” The Kull eased broadside to the dock. Out of the wheel-house bounded Patrick Slayne. With great urgency he saw to the gangway, then ran to the Hunster and beckoned. “What are you waiting for? Get in.”

Deepak and Alf went over but they were in no particular hurry until Deepak asked, “What’s the rush?”

“I’ve been monitoring government frequencies. Homeland Security just got the word. We don’t have much time.”

“Time for what? Are the highways such a mess we’ll never make it out?” Alf asked.

“It’s not that.” Slayne gazed skyward. “New York City is about to be nuked.”