“Now, there are limits we have to observe. First, any home or place we go has to be within 100 miles of a military airfield. We have to have JP-4 available. We can obviously only use the daylight and we have to be able to get there, search, and return by nightfall. We have to stay west of a line running from the middle of Texas due north to the eastern border of North Dakota. The majority of nuclear power plants lies east of that line and has most likely rendered the eastern part of the country inhospitable,” I continue.
Several faces fall at the news of the limitations. McCafferty raises her hand. “Sir, exactly what is the limit for Texas?” She asks with a hint of trepidation in her voice.
“What place are you thinking about?” I ask in return.
“Lubbock, sir,” she answer.
“That should be far enough west,” I say seeing her eyes light up.
“I’m sorry for those that have family outside of those areas. I truly am and if we could, we’d go find out about everyone but the hard fact is that we can’t risk going east of that line,” I say.
I feel sick at heart looking at some of the crestfallen faces. I’d like to say I know of that feeling and could empathize with them but my kids are safe. I could perhaps share in the anxiety of not knowing they are safe given recent events but to totally not be able to find out or know for sure, no, no one who isn’t going through that could possibly know.
“Sir, are you sure the power plants melted down?” One soldier asks.
“I’m pretty sure,” I say looking to see who asked so I can address them directly but I can’t tell. “All of the safety systems and triple-redundant fail-safes relied on their own generation of power. When that power isn’t available, then the chain reactions start. I’m quite sure they are all in the process of melting down if they haven’t already. With the predominant eastern flow of wind and the numerous plants on that side of the country, well, the coverage has to be almost complete and we wouldn’t know until it was possibly too late. I’m truly sorry.”
The silence is complete. There’s a shifting of feet as some are eager and others saddened. To say this situation is awkward is to put it mildly. I would rather be in the midst of a proctology exam than be standing here telling the ones that have family in possible radiation zones that we can’t go there.
“So, I need a show of hands of who wants to go and who might have family or loved ones within those parameters,” I say wanting this awkwardness to be over.
A few raise their hands. I notice all of Red Team have their hands in the air. That makes it easy, I think counting the others. I ask Lynn to contact Watkins down in the Columbia Gorge with the information to see how many he has that can and would like to go. In all, we find twelve that can and are going. I let them know that we’ll have to wait for an opportune time but that it’ll also have to be soon. If we miss our window for any reason, we won’t be able to attempt it and to also prepare for that eventuality. Several ask about heading out with ground transportation if their homes are too far from a military field. I answer that we may be able to do that in the future but depleting our already thin resources for the period of time it will take isn’t possible at this time. I leave them with the, “we’ll have to see what the future holds. If we can, we will do just that.” The throaty roar of semi’s starting punctuates the atmosphere. Clouds of smoke rise from their stacks.
“Okay everyone, form up and let’s get on with this morning’s training,” Lynn says saving me from any further discomfort.
I had thought this would be mostly good news for the soldiers but it’s mixed. Even the ones who can go feel bad for the ones who can’t. There is a lot of shoulder patting as the teams head across parking lot. I suddenly feel very tired.
“Coming, Jack?” Lynn asks over her shoulder as she walks along with the others. I nod and head over to where they’re gathering.
After training, I lift off in the helicopter and head north. I’m solo today as Robert and Bri are starting the second part of their training today. I still have a queasy feeling in my stomach from this morning with the soldiers. I don’t think they have any hard feelings toward me but sometimes the messenger is associated with the feeling of pain or anguish. I felt bad seeing some of their faces as the hope of finding their loved ones, slim as it may be, was dashed. Sure, there were the vague promises of heading out over land but they know the line across the country still stands. Lynn and I had a private chat after training to be prepared for some leaving. Even knowing the extreme dangers in all of the forms this new world presents won’t stop the pull of wanting to know. I have no doubt that some will leave. However, it’s my hope that the camaraderie found with their colleagues will keep them here.
I head into the clear sky and am presented with the wide open wilderness of it all. The blue sky above with a scattering of clouds; the tail remnants of the front that came through. The vast area around is devoid of any form of life. No movement; just the open areas, the waters of the Puget Sound and the rivers feeding it, the brown fields, the houses nestled in amongst trees, the backyards that hold memories of days past. Even the birds seem to have disappeared. It brings a lonely feeling.
Frank picked out an area around Fort Lewis. I’ll cover the base itself, although we traversed it once seemingly years ago, and the surrounding towns of DuPont and Tillicum. The rally point will be the main entrance to Fort Lewis; actually, the Interstate just in front but the main gate will be a recognizable description to anyone in the area. I fly over the empty towns and base, once busy centers of activity, and broadcast the same message as the day before. I land at Gray Army Airfield and switch out helicopters before making my way through the bright morning back to base.
Bringing it in for a landing, I see Robert, Bri, and a few others in the brown field sitting in a semi-circle around Lynn next to my landing spot. They are beginning the next part of their training. Another larger group is gathered around several other team members. It appears Lynn has started another phase one training group and is leaving it up to the teams to teach this portion. I bring it in and set it down with the group holding onto anything that might blow away and disappear in the tall grass. Lynn looks over with an irritated look and I just shrug. That look tells me it’s a good thing I didn’t follow through with an earlier thought of hovering right over the top of them.
I shut down and head inside to gather the three teams to meet at our broadcast time outside of Fort Lewis. It’s much the same as yesterday except we head north. We only find five people who answer our call; one husband and wife with their young daughter and two other men in their mid to late twenties. None come from the base but I’m happy to be finding some survivors still existing in the world.
I take Robert and Bri aside that evening instead of heading to the roof so we can go through some additional training. My hope is to pass on what little wisdom and knowledge I have. My overall plan is to combine tracking, stealth, and tactical techniques with some discussion thrown in. This training will now encompass our evenings together but we can still go to the roof when the training only involves discussions. I’m not a master of any of these but, like I mentioned before, you only have to be one step ahead to teach.
The evening is more of a recap with Bannerman telling of progress with the buildings. A lot was accomplished in getting one of the large greenhouses apart and that should be finished within the next couple of days. Several large lumber yards were found, thank goodness for being in the Northwest, and he’ll start hauling the material back the next day. He tells of Watkin’s status and that he should be finished and on his way soon. I’m a little edgy about them staying away for so long seeing there is the very real potential of marauders but I’m sure the sight of the Stryker vehicles will make anyone think twice. At any rate, I’ll be happier when they return.