“Shhhhh, you two.” Carpenter had caught a mention of the Twin Cities. He motioned for the technician to boost the gain.
“…surprisingly quiet. Some looting was reported, but the authorities have it under control. There hasn’t been any of the mass mayhem reported from other urban centers.”
Carpenter nodded in satisfaction. One of the first areas they would visit, once it was safe, was Minneapolis and St. Paul.
“Los Angeles is reported to be in meltdown, not from a nuke but from the complete collapse of law and order. There is word that street gangs now control whole sections of the city.”
“Switch to military frequencies,” Carpenter directed. He still hoped, feebly, that U.S. military might would prevail and the war would end with a decisive U.S. victory. But given the nature and scope of the hostilities, it was more than likely that no one would win, that the war would devolve into a stalemate, or, worse, that it would bring about the complete and utter collapse of every nation on the globe, plunging the world into a new and terrifying Dark Age.
The speaker crackled with static. It hummed. It squawked. Suddenly a shrill voice blared.
“Mayday! Mayday! Air Force One is going down! Repeat: Air Force One is going down! We are fifty air miles out of Colorado Springs. I can see a mushroom cloud. Our exact—”
The transmission died.
Carpenter turned to the tech. “Can you get that back?”
“I’m trying. Hold on, sir.”
“Call me Kurt, Miriem. No one is to call me sir. We’re a Family, not the army or navy.”
“There’s nothing, si—Kurt.”
“On that channel?”
“On any of the channels.”
“Switch back to the civilian bands, then. Radio will do. AM or FM, it doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t understand. There’s nothing at all. Anywhere. No AM. No FM. No military. No satellite. It’s all gone.”
“I was afraid of this.”
Miriem tweaked knobs, flipped switches and pressed buttons. “There should be something. All I get is silence. Everywhere. As if the whole world has been wiped out.”
“You can stop trying,” Carpenter advised. “Saturation has occurred.”
“What?” Diana asked.
“You’re familiar with the EMP effect? Yes. Well, most studies dealt with the effect of a single strategic nuclear blast. Few delved into the repercussions of ten warheads going off at about the same time. Or fifty. Or a hundred. But one study I saw did just that. The scientist who wrote it hypothesized a saturation effect, where so many nukes go off that nothing gets through.”
“How long will it last?”
“No telling. It could be months or even years.” Carpenter sat back. “We’re completely cut off from the outside world.”
“God help us,” Becca Levy said.
14. Brave New World
They stayed in the bunker for thirty days and thirty nights. They could have stayed longer. They were stocked with enough food and water and other supplies to sustain themselves for years. Based on the compound’s location and prevailing winds, the experts Carpenter had consulted determined that little fallout from U.S. targets would reach them. And since radiation decayed exponentially, those same experts concluded that it would be safe for Carpenter and his followers to emerge from their reinforced bunkers three to five weeks after the war ended.
Carpenter wanted to be the first one out, but Patrick Slayne wouldn’t hear of it. “I’m chief of security so the risk is rightfully mine. Besides, we can’t afford to lose you. You built this place. You got all these people together. They look up to you. If you die it would devastate them.” Diana Trevor agreed. “Like it or not, Patrick is right.
You’re the leader. As much as you might want to, you can’t take unnecessary risks.” Reluctantly, Carpenter gave in.
Slayne donned a type of hazmat suit used by the military. Known as an NBC suit—or Nuclear, Biological, Chemical suit—it was hard for civilians to obtain. Slayne’s status as CEO of Tekco had overcome that hurdle. The suit was fully sealed and had radiation shielding. It was a Level A, which meant it closed the wearer off completely from the outside world. To breathe, Slayne relied on a respirator strapped to his back.
Slayne picked up a Geiger counter. While some models measured gamma and beta radiation, this one also measured alpha. The sensor was the most sensitive on the market.
Slayne nodded at the others and climbed the ladder to the trapdoor that separated the underground levels from the upper levels. He went to the airlock, went through the inner door, and closed it behind him. He worked the wheel to the outer door and pushed. The heavy door swung easily on recessed pivots. Through his faceplate, he glimpsed the high walls and the moat. The Com link buzzed and Carpenter’s voice blared in his ears. “Are you outside yet? What do you see?”
“I’m tying my shoes,” Slayne quipped. “And don’t shout. I can hear you just fine.”
“Sorry. I’m a little nervous. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Patrick. I rely on you more than you realize.”
“You’d do just fine without me.” Slayne meant it. One of the things that had impressed him when he first met Carpenter was the man’s attention to detail.
Nothing, no matter how trivial, escaped him. Even on subjects he knew little about, he intuitively asked questions that brought out the most pertinent information.
“Don’t even joke about a thing like that.”
“Quiet now. I’m going out. I’ll contact you when I have something to report.” Slayne pushed the door all the way open and strode outside. A gust buffeted him. The sky was strange, gray instead of blue with periodic flashes of light. It lent a preternatural twilight to everything. All else appeared normal. Kneeling, he ran his gloved fingers through the grass but found no dust from fallout. The Geiger chirped when Slayne turned it on. He adjusted it for maximum gain and began his sweeps, keeping a close eye on the meter. He went all the way to the moat. The readings were only slightly higher than normal, interrupted here and there by a random spike from a hot particle brought in by the wind. Slayne climbed the steps over the moat to the rampart on the west wall. Woodland stretched for as far as the eye could see. Undisturbed, pristine, serene.
Looking at it, one would never guess that a month ago the world had been in the grip of all-out war. He was about to climb back down when he gave a start and faced the woods. He tapped his helmet to be sure his pickup was working properly. It was.
There was no sound. The wind had died, and the woods were utterly silent. Slayne boosted the volume to max. Still nothing, save an eerie, somber stillness. It was if he were listening to a dead world. An earth stripped of life and left empty.
Again Slayne went to descend. But at the edge of his faceplate he caught a movement on a low rise to the south-east. A dark silhouette was framed against the gray sky. All Slayne could tell was that the figure had two legs.
He raised his left arm and waved, but the figure didn’t wave back. It just stood there a bit longer, then melted into the trees.
His helmet crackled.
“Damn it, Patrick. How long are you going to keep me waiting? Are you all right? Is it safe or not?”
“Bring the kiddies and have a picnic.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
Carpenter wasn’t satisfied. Each bunker had two hazmat suits, and over the next several days, teams went over every square yard of the thirty-acre compound. The air was tested. The water in the moat was tested. The soil was tested. Finally Carpenter had to admit the obvious.
“It’s safe enough. But I’m still uneasy. We’ll let small groups go out for a few hours at a time.”
“Guards need to be posted on the walls,” Slayne said. “I’ll break open the armory and pass out weapons to the men I choose.”