Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (10 page)

Christina pulled back enough to look up at Eric through her eyelashes.  "I mean it," she said seriously.  "You got help for me when I broke down; you pulled everyone off the mountain when the fire was coming, and you're the one who stopped Bill's bleeding and saved his life so he could keep all of us awake with his snoring."

"Not all of us," Claire said softly, and both Eric and Christina jumped.  Claire smiled sheepishly in the pale starlit night and said, "Sorry.  I didn't mean to startle you.  She's right, though, Eric.  I think we'd have been in a lot of trouble today if it hadn't been for you."

Eric shrugged uncomfortably and looked away to the south.  Several flashes lit up the sky to the south, and the distant rumble eventually reached them.  He didn't like the sudden focus and attention all resting on him; it made his shoulders itch.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Christina asked, motioning for Claire to sit.

"Not with that racket," Claire said, hooking her thumb over her shoulder at the tents.  "I don't know how Imogene has put up with that for all of these years.  I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink with that kind of noise going on."

"What about Mike?" Eric asked.

Claire shook her head.  "He told me a story once about sleeping through a category 4 hurricane in an open garage when he was a kid.  I never believed him before, but I do now.  He's wrapped up in our tent, sleeping as sound as a baby."

Four quick flashes lit up the night sky to the west, and several seconds later, a deep rumble washed over them.  Eric frowned to himself.  Something had been nagging him about this "heat" lightening they'd been seeing.  He'd never heard of a storm being far enough away that you couldn't see any of the clouds associated with it, yet close enough that you could hear the thunder when it hit.

Eric stood and looked south and west towards the latest of the mysterious flashes.  Claire and Christina both stood with him.

"Everything okay, babe?" Christina asked, her hand finding his and squeezing tightly.

"Yeah, it's probably nothing," Eric said, peering into the distance.  "Something about that lightening just doesn't seem right."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked, looking off in the direction of the last flashes.

"Well, it's the wrong color," Eric said hesitantly.  "Plus it's jumping around a lot.  I saw a few flashes to the northeast, then some south west, and now a few just about due west.  Storms don't move around like that."

Claire stood.  "Come on, let's go down by the lake and see if we can get a better view of what's going on."

Eric nodded and stood.  He helped Claire and Christina to their feet and the three walked carefully and quietly past the tents, though any sound they could have made would have been more than drowned out by Bill's unbelievable snores.  They walked down the shoulder of the road in the dim starlight.  The breeze was cool, but not cold, and with the stars overhead it was really a pleasant night.  The only sound was a breeze whispering through the trees and the very far off mumble of what sounded like a jet engine.  Eric strained his ears, but the sound of the jet faded before he could pinpoint a direction, and the three walked down to the edge of the bridge in silence. 

Eric stood at the edge of the bridge with Christina on his right and Claire on his left.  They looked out at the lake and the remnants of aircraft rising like tombstones from a field of grass.  Eric could smell the faint, acrid fumes of high-octane jet fuel that was leaking from the damaged fuel tanks on the planes.  Every now and then, the breeze would shift slightly, and a more unpleasant smell that he didn't want to think about would waft past. 

Suddenly, to the north, there were four flashes of bright orange and yellow light that lit the sky.  The rumble that followed was sharper and crisper than anything before had been, and it started in their feet and reverberated up through the air.  Eric looked at Claire, a frown on both their faces as they struggled to process what they were hearing.  I seemed like it should be thunder and lightning, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky.  And the sound didn't quite fit right.

The sound of a jet crept back into Eric's perception, and he turned to the south.  "Do you hear that?" he asked, pointing toward the southern horizon.  Claire and Christina both nodded and they faced the sound also.  The dull moan grew steadily to a roar and somewhere overhead a jet screamed by in full or near full after-burner throttle. 

Just as the sound of the jet was passing overhead, a high-pitched whistle and whine to the south grew in a rapid crescendo and there was a flash of bright orange-red fire and smoke.  A hard detonation shockwave slammed into the three a heart-beat later as they stood wide-eyed and open mouthed.  Two miles to the south, an old rail road bridge collapsed in a deep black cloud of smoke and dust visible even in the darkness. 

The jet engine roar was back and growing louder.  It took a brief second, but Eric suddenly realized what was happening.

"GET DOWN!" he yelled and threw himself against Christine, knocking them both into the storm ditch next to the road. 

Just then there was another ear-piercing whine and whistle.  A blinding flash of light and heat accompanied by a near simultaneous crushing shockwave slammed into Eric, and he was stunned for a moment.  Sounds seemed muffled as he tried to stand and lost his balance twice. 

Eric frantically felt all over Christina, but couldn't find any injuries.  He took a small flashlight from his pocket and looked her over, but there were no cuts or bruises.  Her eyes were wide, and she tried to tell him something, but he couldn't understand her.  The words blended together in a garbled and muffled mumble in his numb ears.  Eric put his fingers to his left ear and blinked at the small trickle of blood smeared on them.

His ear drums had likely burst.

Eric turned back towards the bridge, and the ground seemed to spin.  He nearly fell again, but managed to catch himself.  The bridge that had spanned the entire lake now ended two hundred yards out in a jagged, smoking heap. 

Claire knelt in the middle of the road facing the ruined bridge. 

When Eric stepped up to face her, he looked down and felt his heart drop into his shoes.  Claire sat slumped slightly forward, her hands feebly pulling at a two foot length of twisted steel rebar that had impaled her through the chest at a slightly downward angle.  She looked up at Eric, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.  Claire tried to stand, but the effort seemed to tear something deep inside her.  Her body arched with a sudden spasm, and she fell over on her side.  Eric knelt and ripped his shirt off to wrap around the rebar and try and slow the blood seeping out around it. 

Claire looked up at Eric and moved her mouth as if she was trying to speak, but all that came out was a bubbly froth of blood.  She coughed once hard, and then her body went limp.  Eric felt for a pulse at her neck, but couldn't find one. 

With tears streaming down his face and blood trickling slowly from his ears, Eric reached down and carefully closed Claire's eyes as the sound of distant thunder rolled on past the horizon.

Ch. 22

Better In The Light

Chris leaned over and whispered in Joe's ear, "Are we really going to watch this go down?"

Joe took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly.  He shook his head.  "No," he replied.  "We'll take the two on the outside first, the two on the inside next.  Get your knife out.  I've got my side, you've got yours."

Joe drew his knife with his left hand and his suppressed Beretta with his right.  Chris nodded when he was ready.  The two crept forward silently and with surprising speed.  Years of training took over, and they began rolling their steps and cushioning the impact of their stride with their knees.  The result was a low-crouching, shuffling sprint that was quick and quiet. 

Just outside the light from the four-man squad's flashlights, Joe and Chris stood in unison.  One shot from their twin Berettas dropped the two men on the outside of the semi-circle formation.  Their companions turned and stared open-mouthed for a brief heartbeat.

That was all it took.

As the man on the right turned back to the darkness behind him and raised his M-4 carbine, Joe stepped up and smoothly drove home his tactical dagger just under the man's right jaw at an upward angle.  The man's body jerked once, hard, as the spinal cord was severed cleanly.  Both bodies hit the ground nearly simultaneously as Chris dispatched his guard.  Joe nodded to him, and Chris knelt by the four bound captives at his feet.  He took off their hoods first and made them focus on him, and not the four bodies.  Four young men between seventeen and twenty-two by the looks of them stared wide-eyed at him in shock.  Joe kept an eye on the perimeter as Chris took care of the captives.

"Look at me," Chris said softly, but intensely.  "I am a United States Air Force officer, got it? This guy, he's Navy Seals, okay? Now, you can tell us who you are when I untie you.  If you start making noise or if I think for a second you're lying to us, we will finish what they started."

The oldest of the four blinked a couple of times and then nodded twice.  Chris leaned over and loosened his gag.  He put the hoods back over the other three, and they squirmed at first, but the young man growled.  "Y'all cut that shit out!" After a bit of muffled grumbling the other three settled down, and the bound spokesperson turned back to Chris.  "I'm Donovan.  Man, I don't give a damn who you are, thank you.  Them dudes were gonna kill us, and they weren't shy about saying it."

Chris nodded.  "Did any of them say who they were with? Mention a country? Speak in a foreign sounding language?"

Donovan shook his head.  "Nah.  All I heard was one saying they had to stay on schedule or the TOD would be all over them.  Said it like they were sweepin floors or digging ditches.  Those dudes are ice cold, man."

"What about you, Donovan?" Chris asked.  "You don't seem as shook up as you should be.  What do you do?"

"None of your damned business," Donovan spat back.  "You don't know me.  I don't know you.  Let's keep it that way."

Chris shrugged his shoulders just a bit.  "Okay.  I can appreciate that.  Now, can you keep these guys under control? They know who's in charge, right?"

"Man, you cut me loose and leave me a blade or wire snips," Donovan said, shaking his head.  "I'll cut them loose after you guys are long gone.  You ain't even got to worry about them.  They're my problem, not yours."

Chris looked at Joe and shrugged.  Joe seemed to think about it for a moment and nodded.  He came around and knelt in front of Donovan.

"Look," Joe said, his voice soft and low, "if I even think you guys are behind us, I'll come back for you.  I'll put you down and not think twice about it.  You're right, I don't know you and you don't know us.  Probably best that we keep it that way so everyone can stay healthy.  We clear?"

Donovan nodded.  "Yeah, we're clear."

Chris busied himself gathering magazines and two rifles from the dead contractors.  He left one pistol and two rifles, with one half-full magazine each.  He left two strong tactical folding knives clipped to the contractors' belts.  It wasn't much, but at least the young men would be able to defend themselves if they ran into trouble....for a while. 

Joe took out a three inch lock-blade pocket knife and flipped the blade open.  It was small, but razor sharp and well-made.  He clipped the ties around Donovan's feet.  Donovan held out his hands, but Joe shook his head. 

"I don't trust you," Joe said flatly.  "Here's the deal.  I'm gonna set this knife on the tracks right here.  Then I'm gonna put your gag and your hood back on and sit you down five feet in front of the tracks.  Then we walk away, and you find the knife and cut yourself out.  This way, by the time you and your friends are really free, we
will
be long gone."

Donovan nodded, and Joe was good to his word.  Once Donovan was gagged and blind-folded again, Joe left him kneeling just as he'd promised.  As Joe and Chris made their way back down the rail road tracks, they checked behind them several times.  The last they saw of Donovan, he was carefully pacing forward, placing his feet heel-to-toe slowly and deliberately.

"Four groups of bodies," Chris said softly to Joe as they moved side by side.  "Nineteen dead.  Those guys would have made twenty three.  Whoever these contractors are with, they're trying to make a statement."

Joe nodded, "Most of the time, people say it'll look better in the light of day.  When the sun comes up tomorrow there's going to be dozens of victims of 'random violence' all over the city.  It'll give them the perfect excuse to come down even harder."

"We've got to get out of here," Chris said.  "We can't wait.  It's got to be tonight or tomorrow.  Any longer than that and they'll have it locked down so tight around here we won't be able to move."

Joe nodded and Chris picked up the pace.  They were only a few miles from home now, and it was still hours before dawn.  Joe stubbornly refused to acknowledge the burning stitch in his right side as he quickened his steps.  As he ran, Joe checked his rifle to make sure it was chambered and ready.  So far they'd been able to avoid a hostile exchange of fire, but given years of combat experience, Joe knew that luck couldn't last forever.

Ch. 23

When The Dust Settles

When Eric stood, his legs were steadier and the dizziness was beginning to fade.  His ears were still ringing and every sound had an odd echo effect, but even that was settling down as well.  Every muscle in his body ached, though, and his head felt like it had been temporarily used as a speed bump for a dump truck or a city bus. 

Eric pulled Christina to her feet and helped her up the slope towards the convenience store.  Imogene and Bill had come out of their tent, as had Mike.  They all stared wide-eyed at the remnants of the bridge they'd crossed just hours earlier.  Then Mike noticed Claire's body lying on the pavement at the edge of the bridge.

"Claire!" Mike called, starting down the slope, "
CLAIRE!
"