Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Hmm…”

“Personally, I’ve always had a deep-seated fear of radiation, Rog. I don’t like what I can’t see and kill. Buddy of mine was exposed on an op in Africa. We didn’t expect it. He was dead within the year.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda an obsession, now. I’ll die. I know that. But not by radiation if I can help it.”

“Now, I’m just thinking how clueless I’ve been.”

“Lady luck was with you and your family, Rog. Count your blessings.”

“Yeah, but still…”

“So, when I say we’re not eating anything that blips that yellow box, you’d agree?”

“Hell ya!”

“Sometimes, I’ve not eaten for weeks, traveling until I was damn sure any food I ate wasn’t contaminated.”

“Wow. I’m so there with you on that.”

“Good to know. By they way, John was aware of some nuke plants based on a map he remembered seeing on TV once. Told me he took steps to avoid what he remembered during his travels. Lady Luck was on his side, too.”

“Where can I find one?”

“We’ll keep an eye out, Rog. Might find one in a fire station. Though, nowadays, chances are a bit slim.”

“True.”

“I usually check for ’em when I’m out and about. Copy the map if you want, Roger. Put Cody on it as a project, he can draw pretty well, right? We’ll find us some paper or something.”

“Good idea.”

“I’d love to have a second map of it.”

“Yeah.”

“And, since we left Cleveland, I’ve found no real need to check too much.”

“Wait a second! Cleveland’s between two blue circles!”

“It is that. The Chicago plant to the west and one east of it. Wind dispersal fallout patterns kept it safe. You know, I wouldn’t put it past Phoenix to have had somebody tracking the radiation winds or placing someone onsite to directly monitor them.”

Connor briefly flashed to the loss of Amanda and the pain coursing across his face was easy to see. Quickly, he pushed the pain into the deep hole he kept for such purposes.

“Sorry, Mac. It seems I’ve upset you.”

“Nah, no problem. Anyway, there’s been no need to use this for the past week, Rog. No nuke plants nearby until now. Used it quite a bit this year though, used it a good bit in Japan, too. I’ve had some damn near crazy route changes at times. But the potential exposure has calmed down some after those first years. Rain pushed the contaminants into the ground. Now we just eat the shit if we’re not careful.”

“Damn.”

“I hear ya. I remember that I had to come in high into California to avoid the two nuke plants there. They were still pretty hot. But, San Fran was okay. Clean.”

“Where else?”

“Well, not much running through the southwest. Kansas was a bit of a surprise, though. Dispersal fallout was wider than that blue circle. Had to head north of Burlington and Topeka this year. Lit up that box almost into the red before I hauled ass backwards and north. After that, I threaded a needle getting through Missouri and Illinois up into Indiana. It was strange. Like there was only one corridor of clean . John and his men stuck close to the Ohio River on his way out west, by the way, so that kept him away from most. Lady Luck did the rest for ’em.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, after you give this to BB, have Rhonda set up chow in the Steel Cooling Room. It’s near the back away from the main entrance. See where I’m talkin?”

“I think so—”

“See that stacked steel sittin’ under the overhang like it’s waiting for the next train?”

“Okay, I see it. Yeah.”

“Good. Have Cody gather up some wood and tell ’im to dig a deep fire pit for Rhonda. That way we can hide the light. Fifteen pallets are sitting back near that old red crane. Those outta be good firewood for now.”

“Okay.”

“Rhonda will need it, so put Cody on it quick and have him set it up under the main conveyor lines coming off #1 Furnace. See there?”

“Yep.”

“We do this, we should stay relatively unseen from outside. Smoke should dissipate nicely through the conveyers, struts and roof to make it unnoticeable.

“Good deal… anything else?”

“Nah, but have Jackson stick by Rhonda and keep a secure eye out on her and help her out. Tell Surf Boy and John to come see me if you get a chance.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Rog.”

“No problem.”

Connor returned again to the furnace, settling on his haunches near the open main hearth door. Swiftly, his thoughts turned to Amanda before he quelled the upsurge of intense pain. Not an overly optimistic man, he truly hoped she was alive, making her way to the rendezvous with the president in tow. Thinking of any other alternative right now would turn him to mush.

“She’s still out cold, ma’am,” said Scott. Resting in a sleeping bag, he was propped on his right arm next to the door outside of an old college classroom. The sign out front of the building they had entered four days before had alerted them to the fact that they were entering Rockwell Hall.

“She gonna be okay?”

“Too soon to tell, ma’am.”

The cold marble of the third floor shined like it was freshly waxed and with the remnants of several meals discarded nearby, Scott had not voluntarily left the side of the injured woman in the adjacent room for very much time, if at all.

“Okay. Simply checking in, Scott.”

“There’s no need to go in there, ma’am. Cassie’s sittin’ with her and taking good care.”

“I know, but she’s been unconscious for four days.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess, well, we can just hope for the best.” Glancing into the glass window of the door, Colonel Starkes caught a glimpse of Amanda lying comfortably in a makeshift bed constructed from a gurney. Cassie flittered about checking this and that, not noticing the attention at the door. Before the Sickness, the building housed the graduate nursing school department of Allegheny College in Meadville, PA. As it stood, Major O’Malley had selected the college campus as the most defensible terrain given their current situation.

“Cassie’s real good at what she does, ma’am.”

“I see that.”

Conveniently, the college was only a few minutes from the small Sperling Airport once they landed in Meadville seeking suitable fuel. That is, after some minor modifications made to the fuel in the storage tanks near the hanger. The chemical additive developed by GT took two hours this time to fully stabilize the fuel and raise it in octane. They had more than they needed to refuel.

“The young woman seems comfortable.”

“As best we can, ma’am.”

Settling in, their perimeter defenses met a college campus, housing a small, survival-minded group. With hard-won experience in learning to deal with new strangers, Major O’Malley had enlisted their help. Granted, Dr. Wilfred Schwartz, the gray-haired professor of Economics was not that useful to them specifically, but he had created a small community of forty well-fed men and eighteen women who effectively used the campus as their main base of operations for the past five years. Twelve of the men were ex-military and quickly agreed to cooperate. In fact, the deference shown Colonel Starkes made him optimistic that a new United States might still be built out of the ashes of the H5N1 devastation. And, as luck would have it, one woman, Cassie, was a certified nurse practitioner who, once engaged, forcefully relieved Scott from his twenty-four-hour and day-by-day vigil of the young woman they’d saved from the firefight at the Hall of Fame.

“I know you’re taking good care of her, Scott.”