William Forstchen - One Second After

“Maybe launched from a sub, hell, even from a freighter that got up a couple of hundred miles from the coast. Get that close and even an old Scud could just about get the package high enough. One like I said, maybe two or three, and you’ve just castrated the entire country.”

“We’ll flatten the bastards for this,” Tom snapped.

“Most likely already have, but do they give a shit? Hell no. The leaders will survive; they’re most likely down in bunkers a thousand feet deep laughing their asses off right now. Hell, if we flatten them, they’ll tell their own people that survive that we struck first and then they got millions more followers.”

“I can’t yet believe this,” Kate sighed.

“Sun Tzu,” Charlie said.

John looked at him and smiled.

“The enemy will never attack you where you are strongest…. He will attack where you are weakest. If you do not know your weakest point, be certain, your enemy will.”

All three looked at him in surprise.

“Hey, I remember a few things from college.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“What happened out there,” John said softly, “doesn’t matter to us now. It’s what happens here in Black Mountain that does.”

“How long before the power comes back on?” Kate asked. “Or we get some word from Washington on what to do? Or even from Raleigh or Asheville?”

Strangely, an old Civil War song flashed into his mind, a line from “Lorena”: “It may be for years, and it may be forever.”

“Weeks, months, maybe years,” John said, and he found he could not look into Kate’s eyes as he said it.

Yesterday, her biggest concern was the hot argument in the town about who would be grand marshal this year for the Fourth of July parade, that and the continuing wrangle with Asheville about water rates.

“We’ve got to prioritize,” Tom said. “Security for one thing. I’ve got five hundred strangers from the interstate on my hands this morning. What the hell should we do with them for starters.”

No one spoke.

“Well, we just can’t kick them out,” Kate said. John did not reply.

“Priorities for getting through this,” Charlie interjected, and now everyone was becoming agitated. John realized that for the last fifteen hours they had been waiting for “someone else” to tell them what to do. The reality was beginning to hit, that there just might no longer be “someone else.”

“Water first,” Kate said. “Once the tank on top of the hill runs dry, the pipes will start emptying out. We don’t have any means then of pumping more back up to the tank. Most of the town will be dry within a day.”

“We’re lucky in one sense,” Charlie said. “We get our water gravity fed from the reservoir. The dam face is at twenty five hundred feet above sea level, so at least here in town we’ll get some, but anyone above that elevation line is screwed.”

John realized that meant him; his neighbor had a sign on his driveway: “Half mile high.” They were 250 feet above the gravity feed point for water. At least we have the pool, thank God.

“Food,” Tom said. “Jesus, no electric means no refrigeration.”

John was silent, on his third cigarette as the other three argued about what to do next.

“I’m making a quick run up to the college, and once the pharmacy opens I’ve got a very important errand to run,” John said. “I’ve told you all I know, so if you will excuse me.”

He stood up and started for the door. “John.”

He knew this was coming. It was Tom.

“Concerning your car.”

“What about my car?”

“I’d like to have it.”

“Why?”

“I need to get around.”

“Use a bike; it’ll be good for you.”

“John, don’t bullshit around with me; I need that car. I’ll give you a lift home, but I do need it.”

John stared right at Kate for a moment, then back at Tom. “That car is mine, my family’s. You declaring martial law?”

“I think we’ll have to,” Kate said quietly.

“When you do, come and try and take it, Tom.”

“What do you mean ‘try’?”

“Just that. Just try.”

Tom stood silent, no one speaking, and then finally he nodded. “Ok, John.”

He looked back at Kate, who sighed and then nodded in agreement. “Sorry, John, we were out of line.”

“That’s ok. Just a bit of advice, Kate.”

“And that is?”

He pointed to the cigarette in her hand.

“Now that you are hooked again. You better go over to Smiley’s and get several cartons. Cash only. If Hamid says he doesn’t have cartons, pull rank on him. He’s hiding them in the back of the store. You better load up now ’cause you’re going to need them.”

John turned and headed out the door and then realized that Tom had followed him out.

“What the hell is it now?” John asked.

Tom hesitated.

“Look, John. Sorry. I haven’t slept since yesterday. Sorry about back in there,” and he extended his hand. John took it.

“Tom, I don’t envy you your job one bit.”

“Look, John. I know I might not be the brightest lightbulb in the pack.

You’re the smart guy. I like my job, though, and try to do what’s right. But I never thought I’d be dealing with something like this.”

“Yeah, I know. Hard day. Damn, I hope I’m wrong about everything I just said back in there. My first thought was it was some sort of weird solar storm. Maybe I’m dead wrong and ten minutes from now the lights will come back on.”

“Think they will?” Tom asked hopefully.

John reluctantly shook his head, went over to his car, unlocked it, and got in. He almost felt guilty as he turned the switch and the car roared to life. Everyone gathered in the parking lot looked at him as he drove off.

The run up to the college had been a quick one. He felt, though, that he had to go, just check on what was happening.

A lot of heads turned as he drove into the campus and pulled in front of Gather Hall.

“Hey, Doc, cool wheels!” someone shouted, and John nodded and smiled.

The conversation with President Hunt only took a couple of minutes. He had basically figured out the same thing and was already organizing the place. The kids were feasting on steak and ice cream this morning; they were emptying out the freezers as quick as possible and stuffing the food into bellies. Anything preserved or canned could wait.

The kids on this small campus were a good crew and ready to help out. A group had been organized to push cars clear of the road; others were hauling buckets of water all the way from the lake up to makeshift tanks near buildings in case of fire. The water in the campus pool would serve as drinking water, and four Porta Potties, hauled with much groaning and complaining, had been commandeered from the construction site for the new gym and a couple of new houses going up in the Cove and placed in front of the dorms.

The head of campus security, Washington Parker, who until now was viewed by most of the kids as a “rent-a-cop” to be teased about falling asleep in the student union at three in the morning, now had a job. He was old ex-military, an actual marine sergeant from long ago, in his early sixties and the good-natured guy who usually had nothing more to do than bust a kid for being publicly drunk or shine a spotlight into a parked car to break up a hot and heavy session. Parker had already met with the heftier members of the ball team and their coach to discuss keeping the campus safe and setting up a twenty-four-hour watch.

Parker had taken his job seriously for years, in spite of the fact that if ever there was a “safe” campus in the mountains of western North Carolina, it was Montreat College up in the Cove. A year or two would go by without even a minor crime, let alone the far more serious issues of rape, assault, or heavy drugs. But he had religiously attended every conference on campus security offered by the government, especially the ones that dealt with the potentials of a terrorist takeover of a campus. He had once talked with John about that issue, pointing out that the fact that they were, in general, so darn safe up in these mountains meant they were exactly the type of campus that just indeed might be hit.