Cannibal Reign (5 page)

Eight

D
r. Michael Porter was lying on the sofa watching CNN when a
BREAKING NEWS
bulletin suddenly interrupted the Nasdaq report. Aging anchor Wolf Blitzer appeared and tersely announced that a trio of astronomers from the Gemini Observatory in Hawaii was standing by to make a collective statement, concerning a large asteroid due to collide with the earth within the next few months.

“Fuck,” Michael muttered, sitting up on the couch. “Hey, Ronny? You’d better come listen to this.”

Veronica came quickly from the kitchen. “Is this it?”

He gestured at the television where Ester Thorn stood behind a podium between two much taller male astronomers. She spoke into a cluster of microphones. The caption in the upper right-hand corner of the screen read:
LIVE
.

“ . . . and if these preliminary calculations are accurate,” Ester Thorn said, reading from a prepared statement, “this object will collide with the Earth in sixty days. We are at this time still calculating the exact point of impact . . .”

“Holy shit!” Veronica whispered. “He was telling the truth.” She felt a sudden surge of fear and sat down on the couch. Michael put his arm around her as they sat watching.

“ . . . but we have determined with veritable certainty that we will be struck somewhere in or very close to North America. The asteroid is coming toward us out of the northern sky at a velocity in excess of one hundred thousand miles an hour from the constellation Ursa Minor nearest the star we call Polaris. This means it is not coming from the asteroid belt within our solar system, and that it has very likely been traveling millions of years to get here.

“An asteroid of this size is on par with the object we believe ended the reign of the dinosaurs more than sixty-five million years ago. So, with that in mind, we believe it is essential for all nations to begin preparations at once. The time for denial has long since passed. We are a species with the means of preserving itself, but we must work together and we must begin today, this very hour. Thank you.”

The reporters in front of the podium went nuts, shouting their questions, but neither Ester nor the men made an effort to answer as they walked back into the observatory.

“The government’s been keeping it from us,” Michael said. “Did you hear that bit about ‘the time for denial has passed’? She was saying ‘shame on you’ to somebody.”

“I wonder if they’ll arrest her. If you think about it, this wasn’t a very responsible way to tell us. People could well go nuts.”

“That won’t likely happen before the final week or so,” he said. “At least not on a grand scale. Shock and denial have to run their course first. The biggest problem will be getting people to go to work, which is likely the reason we haven’t been told. Anyhow, I doubt they’ll arrest her. She’s an old woman and that would only prove her point. If the government wants credibility, they’ll have to offer us some kind of hope or solution.”

As if on cue, Wolf Blitzer announced the President of the United States live from the White House.

“My fellow Americans,” began the President, an elderly man with white hair, standing before a podium flanked by a pair of officials, “the time has come for me to share with you a discovery of great significance . . .”

When the President was finished, Veronica opened her phone and selected Forrest’s number, pressing the call button.

“Hello, Veronica,” Forrest answered in a quiet voice a few moments later.

“Jack, the story broke ten minutes ago on CNN.”

“Who broke it?”

“A group of astronomers in Hawaii. The President spoke right afterward.”

“Did he speak live in front of reporters?”

“It was live from inside the White House. No reporters. He only spoke for about five minutes.”

“Were there two other men in the shot with him?”

“You saw it?”

“No. It wasn’t live. That announcement was taped weeks ago. Listen, pay close attention to whatever he says when he’s live and in front of the media. Soon, he’ll have to respond directly to whatever assertions are being made by these astronomers. The White House already has a battery of experts lined up to manage the public fear factor, but it’s going to take a few hours to get them all to D.C. for a joint appearance. They’re going to play it way down, make like it’s just a matter of shooting it out of the sky, but every astronomer in the world will be weighing in over the next few weeks, and the facts will eventually override all their bullshit.”

“How do you know all of this stuff?”

“I’d rather not get into that over the phone. But if you guys would like to meet, that’s fine. We’ve got fifty-nine days.”

“I think I’d like to meet sooner than later.”

“Okay. Make it the day after tomorrow at the truck stop.”

“Well, should we pack now? Do you need us to bring anything?”

Forrest laughed.

“What?” she said. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“You can bring the chips and beer.”

“I can’t believe you’re making fun of me.”

“Veronica, I’ve had some time to come to terms with this. And you’ve had an entire month.”

“Well, I’ve been hoping you were full of shit,” she said.

“Oh, you knew goddamn well I was telling the truth. So, are you gonna ditch your old man now or what?”

“No!” she said indignantly. “Hold on . . .”

She turned to Michael, who was just hanging up with his father. “Honey, he says he can meet with us at the truck stop day after tomorrow. You okay with that?”

Michael crossed his arms and nodded. “Yeah, yeah we can do that.”

“What time, Jack?”

“Make it nineteen hundred,” Forrest said. “If anything comes up, call.”

“Wait, what time is that?”

“That’s seven
P.M.
,” he answered with a chuckle.

“I’m glad you find this end-of-the-world stuff so funny.”

“I don’t find it funny at all. I think you’re funny. See you then.” He broke the connection.

Michael stood looking at her.

“How’re your folks?” she asked.

“Dad’s fine. You know him. But mom’s already a wreck, worried about my sisters and all the grandkids.” He put his hands in his pockets and laughed joylessly. “I’m not sure I believe this is happening, Ronny. It’s worse than Pompeii. There’s absolutely nowhere to run.”

She shrugged. “That’s why we dig . . . well, figuratively.”

Nine

F
orrest tucked the phone into his pocket and grabbed a pair of ammo cans filled with .223 caliber ammunition for their M-4 carbines, short-barreled versions of the M-16 assault rifle. He carried the ammo into the house and waited at the top of the basement stairwell for Ulrich to come up and get it.

“Got a meeting with that girl from the truck stop day after tomorrow,” he said, handing the cans over. “Her boyfriend’s gonna be there, so I want you to come along.”

“Suppose the guy’s an asshole?”

“Hence the meeting, Wayne. That’s what I’m looking to find out.”

“Just making sure, partner.”

“The meteor’s gone public, by the way.”

Ulrich stopped as he turned to go down. “It’s an asteroid, Jack. Who broke the story?”

“A group of astronomers in Hawaii, I guess. You’d better turn on the TV down there and find out what they’re saying.”

“I’ll tell Linus to watch it,” Ulrich said, heading down. “He likes sitting on his ass.”

After the ammo was stored belowground, Forrest took a break in the house. He was smoking a cigarette on the couch with Laddie at his feet when Ulrich and Vasquez came into the living room and dropped onto a couple of chairs. The sun was setting and pretty soon the five of them would be gathering in the kitchen to make dinner.

“What are they saying on TV?” Forrest asked.

Ulrich rubbed his eyes, fatigued from lack of sleep. “Exactly what Jerry told us to expect—there’s nothing to worry about, they’re gonna shoot it down and the world will enter into an era of peace and prosperity.”

Vasquez chuckled. “And the five of us will be asshole deep in debt for the rest of our lives.”

“We should hope,” Ulrich said.

Forrest pointed at Vasquez, his mind on forty things at once. “What are we going to do about your insulin habit in the long term?”

Vasquez shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of it down there on dry ice. If we keep it cold, it’ll last a long time.”

“But even if you’ve got enough for two years, there’s a limit, Oscar. What do we do when you run out?”

“I guess you watch me slip into a coma and die, Homes. It won’t hurt. I’ll just go to sleep.”

“I don’t like that plan,” Forrest said. “And neither will Maria or little Oscar. Is there a way we can manufacture it?”

“It’s a hormone, dude. Shit, we may not even outlive my supply.”

“For your information,
dude,
I plan to make it well beyond your goddamn supply, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like for you to be around when we come back up. Now what do you guys want to eat tonight? I say we grill some steaks and get completely pissed. This is going to be the last sane night on Earth.”

“It’s a damn good thing we’ve finished buying supplies,” Ulrich said with relief. “They’ll put the clamp-down on the food and fuel now. And ammo especially.”

“Yeah, civilians won’t be able to buy BBs after tomorrow,” Vasquez added.

“Which is why we’ve saved the painting and the minor repairs down below for last,” Forrest said. “I think I’ll try getting in touch with Jerry at the Pentagon one last time before he’s up to his ears in emergency protocol.”

“Is there anything more he can do for us?”

“The way I see it, there’s going to be a whole lot of shit being shipped all over hell’s half acre by the government now, which means a logistical free-for-all . . .”

Marcus Kane came into the room and Laddie jumped up to greet him, wagging his tail. “I’ve seen enough of that bullshit on TV,” he said, rubbing the dog’s ears with both hands. “The President’s calling for a worldwide prayer vigil.”

“That’ll help,” Forrest said dryly. “Anyhow, Wayne, there’s no reason Jerry can’t cut some bullshit paperwork redesignating this site as a government installation long enough to ship us out a truckload of MREs. Maybe even some high-tech comm gear. We’ll all be in uniform when they show up, and I’ll wear my captain’s bars . . . so long as there’s an officer here to sign for the conveyance, no staff sergeant or even a shavetail lieutenant’s gonna think anything of it. They’ll figure there must still be a missile down there we’re sitting on. G-3 will never catch the glitch before the meteor gets here.”

“Asteroid,”
Ulrich said.

“Heavens to mergatroids, if you ain’t the most anal son of a bitch I ever met. What the hell does it matter what I call it?”

“Why can’t you just call it what it is?”

“It can’t have nothin’ to do with wantin’ a rise out of you,” Kane said with a wink at the other two, and the three of them laughed.

“You three can kiss my ass,” Ulrich said, getting up from the chair. “You’ll
think
meteor when that big bastard slams into our atmosphere. It’s gonna burn so hot that anybody within sight of it’ll be vaporized before it even hits the ground.”

“I got a book downstairs says not necessarily,” Forrest lied easily.

“Well, you can stand up here and let us know then, Mr. Scientist. I’ll pop the hatch and sweep your ashes up after it hits.”

“Will you spread them on the ocean for me?”

“I’ll flush ’em down the goddamn toilet,” Ulrich said on his way into the kitchen. “You’ll get there eventually.”

Ten

J
ack Forrest and Wayne Ulrich both stood from the table as Veronica Struan and Michael Porter entered the truck-stop diner. Veronica smiled when she saw Forrest and led Michael by the hand to the table. Introductions were made and everyone shook hands before they sat down. A waitress appeared and took their drink orders, then left them to themselves in a nearly deserted section of the diner.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve got a ton of questions,” Forrest said, mostly to Michael. “So why don’t we let you two begin?”

“Okay,” Michael said, already somewhat relieved by the professional, almost military bearing of the other two men. “I’m still curious how you knew about this so much sooner than everyone else. Do you really have a friend at the Pentagon?”

“Yes, I do,” Forrest said. “And that’s about as much as I intend to say about him or her. Great risks were taken.”

“I understand,” Michael said. “So I guess my next question is why go to so much effort to save a bunch of total strangers? It would be so much easier to save yourselves and leave it at that.”

Forrest deferred the question to Ulrich.

“Is it really so much different than a policeman risking his life to protect his community?” Ulrich asked. “Or a soldier risking his life to protect his nation?”

“Not diametrically, no,” Michael said. “But in actual practice I believe that soldiers tend to fight for one another, rather than for king and country.”

“Yes and no,” Forrest said. “When we were in combat, sure, it was for the team. But it was for king and country that we volunteered in the first place.”

“So you equate military service with what you’re planning now?”

“Wayne, myself, and the other three men in our group have spent all of our adult lives defending people,” Forrest explained. “Be they Americans or the innocents of some other country—which does not make us heroes. We’re just particularly well trained for this kind of thing and we feel a certain amount of responsibility.”

“Particularly well trained how?” Veronica asked.

“We’re retired Green Berets,” Ulrich said. “Special Forces operatives. And in the Special Forces we’re trained to operate in small groups, as small as practical for any given operation. Which means that each man has to be as broadly trained as possible. The training can range widely, from foreign languages to the piloting of rotary winged aircraft.”

“So you’ve been in combat?” Michael asked. “Shot people?”

The two soldiers glanced at one another.

“We’ve fired a few rounds in anger, yes,” Forrest said dryly.

“I’m not trying to sound like an adolescent,” Michael said. “I’m very curious about what sort of people you are, your backgrounds.”

“Maybe we’re a little unused to being questioned about certain things,” Ulrich offered. “I suppose that’s something we’re going to have to get used to now that we’ll be living among nonmilitary personnel.”

“Do any of you have families?” Veronica asked.

“Most of us do,” Ulrich said. “Only Jack and our buddy Marcus are single. Though Jack’s technically . . .” He looked at Forrest, unsure how to continue.

“What he means is that technically I still have a wife,” Forrest explained. “But we’ve been separated for about eighteen months now and she won’t be joining us.”

Veronica was surprised and even a little disappointed to learn that Forrest was married, but she couldn’t tell whether it was his decision for his wife not to join them or his wife’s. So she asked.

“It’s hers,” he answered matter-of-factly, maintaining the military bearing. “I want very much for her to be with us, but after we lost our son she . . . well, she’s very different now, and she has no desire to survive what’s coming.”

“I’m so sorry,” Veronica said.

“I’m also very sorry,” Michael said sincerely. “It’s very difficult for a mother to lose a child. There’s no way you might convince her?”

Forrest shook his head, his deadpan demeanor signaling a change of subject.

Veronica wasn’t familiar with this all-business version of Jack Forrest, but she was pretty sure that he was being so soldierly now for Michael’s benefit. The question was whether it was out of respect, or an attempt to convince Michael that he was capable of carrying off the task at hand.

“So you really think you can pull this off?” she asked.

“If we survive the impact, I’m confident that we can survive belowground for as long as the food holds out, which should be anywhere from eighteen months to two years, depending on how many join us. After that, I make no predictions or guarantees of any kind. What we’re offering is a chance. Nothing more. And it’s clearly not an option for everyone. It won’t be easy living underground in such close quarters.”

“How have you screened your candidates?” Michael asked. “Or haven’t you?”

“I gave five hundred dollars to a social worker in the Lincoln area along with a list of criteria,” Forrest answered. “I wanted reasonably intelligent, responsible, single mothers of healthy, underprivileged children between the ages of five and twelve. There were a few other stipulations, but those were the biggies.”

“Because younger children eat less food?” Michael assumed.

“Correct. In all, we’ve tagged about fifty people in addition to our own families and friends.”

“And you’ve contacted them all?”

“We’ve contacted none of them yet. We’ll begin what we’re calling the ‘round-up’ ten days prior to impact, and we obviously don’t expect them all to accept the offer.”

“No other men?”

“There are two,” Ulrich said. “A surgeon and a dentist, along with their wives and children. Otherwise, no males older than ten.”

“You can’t risk having your hegemony challenged,” Michael said.

“Bluntly put, that’s exactly right,” Forrest said.

“It makes good sense.”

“Good to hear we have the psychiatrist’s approval.” Forrest said, grinning. “And you’re a sociologist,” he continued, pointing at Veronica.

“Yes,” she said with a smile, glad to finally see his grin again.

“That’s interesting,” Ulrich said with an enthusiastic glance at Forrest. Up until this point he hadn’t seen much advantage to their joining the group.

“And you don’t think all this preparation is overkill?” Michael asked. “The government seems pretty confident they can stop this thing.”

“It’s a delaying action,” Ulrich said. “They won’t stop it. They know they’re only buying time.”

“Listen, I’ll tell you how it’s going to go,” Forrest said, cutting to the chase. “That meteor—”

“Asteroid.”

“That
rock
is going to smack into this planet traveling at something like thirty miles a second. After that, it’s good night, Irene. Billions of tons of dirt and dust are going to smother the atmosphere, and much of this continent’s going to catch on fire. So add all that smoke and ash to the mix as well. All of this brings on nuclear winter, and the government’s strategic food reserves—those that survive the firestorm—are going to run out in less than a few months. Soon after that, people are going to be shooting one another over cans of Alpo. And by the time the civilized people have all been murdered or starved to death, the psychopathic alpha males are going to take over, creating their own little fiefdoms, deciding who to keep as enforcers, who to rape and who to eat. Our hope is to outlast those crazy bastards and try to find a way to grow some food through hydroponics and artificial lighting. We admit this last part’s going to be dicey, but we feel a deep desire to at least give it a try.”

“And if by some miracle we’re wrong about how bad it’s going to be,” Ulrich chimed in, “we pop the hatch and go back to our lives. No harm, no foul.”

Michael sat quietly mulling it over. “I know how naive it is,” he admitted, “but it’s still awfully hard to wrap my head around. You two talk about it as though you’ve already been through it.”

“In a sense, we have been through it,” Forrest said. “The only difference was the breadth and severity of the destruction. Large parts of Iraq and Afghanistan were literally obliterated, and cannibalism is about the only atrocity we haven’t seen. Make no mistake—life’s going to be a living nightmare for most of those who survive beyond the first few weeks.”

“Would it be possible for us to see this place of yours?” Veronica asked. “You know, before we make our decision?”

“Most of our potential guests will to have to accept our offer sight unseen,” Forrest said, “but if you two are willing to be blindfolded for the first fifty miles of the drive, I think it’s doable. You’ll have to stay the night with us belowground, however. I’m not making a second two-hundred-mile round trip tonight.”

She looked at Michael and he looked at Forrest.

“What you’re suggesting requires us to have a great deal of faith in what you’ve told us,” he said. “Are the blindfolds really necessary?”

“Mike, if I plan to shoot you and take your woman out there in the middle of nowhere, is it really going to make a difference whether or not you’re blindfolded?”

“We won’t tell anyone where it’s at.”

“I know you won’t,” Forrest said. “But you certainly would if you knew where it was.”

“I want to see it, Michael,” Veronica said. “We’ll probably be dead in two months anyhow. Let’s take the chance.”

Michael gave her a look.

“Listen, Mike,” Ulrich said, “if it’s any consolation, I don’t care whether you join us or not. I mean, we could probably use your psychological expertise, but we’ve already got more names on the list than we can feed long-term, and my biggest fear is that the majority of them are going to accept our offer.”

“Then why ask so many?” Veronica said.

Ulrich thumbed toward Forrest. “Because he won’t listen to reason.”

Michael had paid very close attention to the way Ulrich and Forrest comported themselves from the moment he set eyes on them, and so far neither one had said or done anything to make him believe they were being deceptive.

“Okay,” he said at length. “I guess we’ll take the chance.”

T
he ride to the silo was long and uneventful, and Ulrich allowed them to remove their blindfolds after they’d gotten off the interstate. In the dark, one cornfield looked exactly like another, and there were no signs along the way to betray their location because they had been removed weeks earlier under cover darkness in case it ever became necessary to show someone the installation, as they were doing now, without betraying its location. There was no point in taking chances, and the last thing the authorities were worried about at the moment was missing road signs.

“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Veronica said, seeing Laddie looking back at her from the front passenger seat. She was seated between Michael and Ulrich.

“I thought I smelled a dog,” Michael said.

“See?” said Ulrich, annoyed that he had been displaced by a dog and forced to sit in the back, though he was enjoying the proximity with Veronica, who smelled like flowers. “I told you he needs a goddamn bath.”

“He hates baths,” Forrest said, pulling a cigarette from its pack with his lips. “He fights so hard it’s not worth the trouble.” He lit the cigarette and winked at the dog.

A mile from the site, Ulrich asked them to put the blindfolds back on. After they had walked both of them into the house and down the stairs to the main blast door, Veronica and Michael were allowed to remove them.

“So there’s a house above us?” Veronica asked, looking around the basement.

“It wasn’t common practice,” Ulrich explained, “but we’re so far away from Tinker Air Force Base out here that they built an off-duty quarters for the aboveground security personnel.”

“This is blast door number one,” Forrest said. “It’s ten inches of solid steel and weighs one ton. This door alone should be more than enough to keep out anyone trying to get in, but there’s a second door just like it twenty feet down the concrete security vestibule. Remember, these installations were designed to survive a nuclear attack, not a direct hit, but anything in excess of three miles would probably have failed to disable the missiles that were installed here.”

He sealed door number one behind them and led them down the lighted tunnel to number two, lifting an eight-pound sledgehammer from the floor in the corner and banging out a code against the door.

“We’ll have to remember to change that code now,” Ulrich said with a smile.

“Whatever,” Veronica laughed. “Like either of us knows Morse code. Doesn’t the intercom work?”

“Not at the moment,” Forrest said. “There’s a short somewhere inside the conduit and we haven’t gotten around to running a new wire yet. We’ll also be installing a number of small fiber-optic cameras. We’ve had more time-sensitive issues to deal with up to now. Like stocking up on food.”

The door opened a minute later and there stood Marcus Kane, a look of surprise on his face. “Already?”

“This is just a tour,” Forrest said. “These are the prospective guests we met earlier tonight. Where are the gamers?”

“Playing Xbox down in Launch Control,” Kane said. “Where else?”

“Launch Control? I thought you said the missiles were gone,” Veronica said.

“We still refer to the chambers by their old names,” Forrest said as he led the way down five flights of stairs spanning three stories. “This way to silo number one.”

The thirty-foot steel tunnel was suspended from vibration dampeners made of coiled steel shock absorbers. The walkway itself was covered with steel grating.

“This is blast tunnel number one,” he said. “It seals at both ends to keep out the exhaust during launch.” He opened the blast door and led them into the actual missile silo. “Be careful on the catwalk,” he warned. “It’s a ten-story drop to the bottom.”

“Holy cow!” Michael said, looking around. “This thing is huge.”

“It had to be to hold a rocket, Michael,” Veronica said.

“I’m sorry, honey. I forgot you knew all about missile silos. Perhaps you’d like to give the tour?”

“Shut up,” she said, looking over the railing to the bottom, where she saw a veritable pyramid of cardboard boxes. “Is that all food down there?”

“Most of it,” Ulrich said, peering over. “Be careful of these railings. We’ve rewelded them, but some are pretty badly rusted, so don’t be overly confident.”