Tim Washburn - The Day After Oblivion

Brad and Nicole swivel around to see two enormous warships a mile off their stern and moving rapidly north. Brad grabs the binoculars for a closer look.

Tanner strides across the deck, eager for an up-close look. “Are they ours, Dad?”

Brad twists the focus knob and zeros in on the nearest ship. His shoulders sag when he spots the red flag with yellow stars. “No, not ours, Tanner. They’re Chinese.” Dejected, he hands the binoculars to Tanner.

“Why would the Chinese be in our waters?” Nicole asks.

Brad shrugs. “We have no idea what has happened in the rest of the world. I don’t know if we’re still at war, or even who the enemies are. But those ships here can’t be good.”

Tanner lowers the binoculars. “Where do you think they’re going?”

“No idea, but they’re in a hurry to get there.” He glances up at the limp sail. “We need to get the hell out of her—”

His last words are clipped when the two ships unleash a series of missiles. They stand in awe as the deadly weapons race higher in the sky, the plumes of smoke hanging in the still air.

Once the initial noise dies down, Brad mutters, “Those assholes. I bet they’re shooting at one of our ships.”

Tanner turns around, his face pale. “Dad, we need to get out of here.”

Brad points at the drooping canvas. “Believe me, I know, Tanner. If I start the engine, we’ll get maybe a half a mile. With weapons like those, a half a mile’s not going to buy us much.”

They turn as the two ships launch another barrage of missiles, the flames from the rocket motors streaking across the leaden sky.

Weatherford

Gage ties a tether to one of Henry’s deer rifles and begins to climb. He’s running on fumes after Olivia kept him and Holly up most of the night. Unbeknownst to Holly, Gage is planning on a trip to the doctor’s house as soon as they finish up here. Sweat begins to drip in his face and he pauses to mop his brow. After what happened last time, the deer rifle and a box of cartridges are going to remain topside for the duration. However long that might be.

After fifteen minutes of climbing, Gage reaches up, slides the hatch open, and climbs into the nacelle. He pulls the deer rifle up and unclips it, setting it aside. Sweat is running down his arms and dripping from the tips of his fingers as he cranks the doors open. The doors fold out much like the lid on a carton, and a cool breeze enters, spurring a rash of goose bumps along his forearms and neck. Gage steps over to the side for a moment to catch his breath. Looking out over the landscape, he can just make out the two bodies in the center of the field. It appears they’ve been tugged around during the night, probably by local dogs that survived the radiation fallout by being inside with their owners. Now, with food in short supply, most people are more concerned with feeding themselves, leaving the dogs to fend for themselves. Gage surmises that it won’t be long before those same dogs end up in someone’s stew pot. He shivers at the thought and turns away.

With a majority of the work completed up here, Gage is on hand to start the turbine and troubleshoot any problems that arise, while Henry finishes working on the step-up transformer below. Working one-armed, Henry’s pace of work has slowed considerably. Gage meanders to the other side, where he has a view of town. He’s good with the mechanical aspects of the job, but only has a vague understanding of how electricity works. According to Henry, the wind turbine has an output of 690 volts, and through a process of magnetic induction, that voltage steps up through the transformer to a higher output of 34.5 kilovolts. Normally that would be increased further through other transformers before being released on the grid. But that was before. If they get lucky, some of those other transformers will be operational and higher voltages will be produced, providing more power to more people. Or not. They won’t know until they start the turbine.

Gage scans the roads, searching for threats. A few people are out, looking like ants moving around an anthill from up here, but no one is within two miles of the road approaching the wind turbine. Gage steps over and grabs the deer rifle and puts the scope to his eye for a closer look—anything to keep his mind off his hungry baby girl. He scans several barns within the closest one-mile section, looking to see if any of the local livestock survived, but the barns and fields are barren. He scans farther out and finds more of the same. Disheartened, he lowers the rifle and props it against the wall. He shuffles around the equipment to make sure all is in order and spends a few more minutes puttering around before sitting.

As feared, thoughts of Olivia crowd into his mind. What happens if Holly’s doctor has no formula? Go door-to-door begging? But how far am I willing to go to get my hands on some? Gage sighs and pushes to his feet. Would I kill for it? He rolls that thought around in his mind for a moment and decides he’s not a cold-blooded killer. He steps over to the side and shouts down to Henry, “How much longer?”

Henry looks up and shouts, “Soon.”

Gage groans and turns, checking the equipment again. He crawls into the nose to double-check his work on the blade pitch system. Everything is as he left it. It’ll be something he’ll have to keep an eye on due to the tremendous stresses placed on the blades while rotating. He wriggles back out and picks up the deer rifle again. Moving to the other side, he scopes the doctor’s neighborhood. The last time he visited it was at night and he wasn’t paying much attention to his whereabouts. Scanning up and down the streets, he pinpoints the doctor’s house based on the white Volvo parked in the driveway. He studies the area for a moment to familiarize himself and, once he’s imprinted the neighborhood layout in his mind, he sets the deer rifle aside. He hears a shout and leans over to look at Henry.

“Release the brake,” Henry shouts.

“Okay,” Gage shouts back. He steps over to the braking system, crosses his fingers, and frees the turbine. Nothing happens, and Gage experiences several moments of plummeting distress. But then a gust of wind hits and the turbine inches around.

“C’mon, baby,” Gage shouts.

The giant blades make one slow revolution and stop. Cursing, Gage looks over the braking system. There’s nothing to prevent the turbine from spinning. Another gust of wind hits and the blades make another slow turn. This time it doesn’t stop. One revolution. Two revolutions. The turbine is now spinning. Gage leans over the side to look at Henry. The equipment makes it impossible to hear what he’s shouting. Henry, realizing Gage can’t hear a thing, raises his left thumb high in the air. Relief floods through Gage and a large smile forms on his face.

But then he remembers the situation at home, and the smile fades.

100 miles off the coast of North Carolina

Captain Thompson is kicking himself for allowing the USS Grant a fifty-mile cushion. With two Chinese ships sailing at full speed for the dead-in-the-water destroyer, there’s little the crew of the ballistic missile sub can do. He turns to the helm. “Conn, current speed?”

“Skipper, we’re turning twenty-four knots,” the helmsman answers.

Thompson removes his cap and wipes his brow. “Thank you.” If they really pushed it, they might get another three or four knots, but they’d also run the risk of creating propeller cavitation. An outcome no one wants because the air bubbles can be detected by sonar and any possibility of creating noise in the presence of two enemy ships might prove fatal.