The Fallen (16 page)

It was Marius, holding his own shotgun and naked from the waist down except for his socks.  “Jesus Brian, are you OK?”   

Brian was shaking from the adrenaline surging through him.  “The cellar.” He motioned with the gun he was still pointing. “Over there, they came out of the cellar, one fell down there, there may be more.”

Marius cautiously stepped over the bodies, his socks soaking up the blood as he went.  As soon as he reached the cellar door he slammed it shut and stood with his back pressed against it.  “Brian help me - move the dresser.”

Brian slid the heavy oak dresser that stood next to the door to bar the entrance, while Marius gradually moved aside to make way.  Together they spun the dresser sideways so it would not easily tip over should someone try to force the cellar door from the inside.  With their backs to the oak panelling they looked again at the bodies on the floor. 

“They must have followed the smell of the trash in here,” said Brian, sweating, “I’ve never killed anything before, not even a rat.”

He woke in mid-air; he was falling.  Instinctively he threw his arms and legs out and caught himself on the bottom bunks before he hit the concrete floor.  They were in the Mountain, the journey was over.  He had had the same dream for the past two nights, the farmhouse kitchen, etched by the adrenaline so deeply in his consciousness.  Although the dream was over he was still sweating.  He stared at the strip light flickering above him and lifted his head, his friend coming into focus, sitting at a table at the other end of the room.

He realized what had just happened and was amazed he hadn’t broken his neck in his sleep when he had rolled out of his bunk.  “Marius did you see that?”

“Spectacular,” said Marius, “You should join the circus.  Oh wait there aren’t any more circuses.  You should start one.”

Brian got up off the floor and looked around the sparse quarters.  They must have slept for a day and a half. 

Marius was eating a cooked breakfast that smelled amazing.  “Yours is over there, it might be a bit cold.”

He ate the breakfast and felt life returning; sausages, pancakes and bacon with maple syrup.  He looked at the empty plate.  “Tabula rasa,” he said to himself.

Marius was absentmindedly pouring maple syrup from a stainless steel and glass jug over his plate, letting the liquid fall in a foot-long amber stream. “Yah,
a blank slate
. Latin Brian? I am impressed - you are starting to think more and more like me everyday.  Except you are incorrect.  This isn’t a blank slate Brian, there are those outside and those with whom we are presently entombed.”

Marius seemed mesmerised by the syrup, which was hitting and covering the back of an upturned spoon on the empty plate.  He stopped and slammed the jug on the table.  “That’s it Brian!  The syrup you see!”

“What are you talking about?”  All Brian could see was a large pool of wasted syrup on the plate but before he could say anything else Marius had sprung from the table and run-off down the corridor.  He ran after him, curious to know what his companion had discovered to elicit such a reaction.  He lost sight of him when Marius turned out of the living quarters area and went down one of the many granite tunnels connecting the caverns that housed each sector.  He guessed he had gone to see the female Captain but had no idea why.  After asking a few soldiers the way and getting quite lost, he eventually arrived at a dead end in the generator cavern. He finally found his way back and arrived at the desk where Marius was perched over Zakorski’s shoulder, staring at calculations the Captain was frantically typing into her computer. 

He ran up, panting.  “Marius what’s going on, what have you found?”

Marius didn’t look up from the screen. “The swathe; we’ve been thinking it had some kind of physical element to it, right?  Well if that’s true, and the swathe hit the earth like a wave, then think about it Brian: how does water flow around the column of a Bridge?  There should be a spot on the Earth somewhere that was sheltered from swathe’s flow by the rest of the planet.”

Brian was unconvinced.  “But even if that was true how could we find it? It could be in Antarctica for all we know.”

Zakorski looked up from the screen.  “With these.  I already have the times the different satellites and earth uplinks went down.  We can use that data to calculate not only how fast the swathe was travelling but also from roughly which direction it hit us.  Combining that information with what we know from the geosynchronous satellites we can work out the angle of rotation of the earth, relative to the impact.”

Brian felt a surge of excitement. “You mean, what you are thinking is that there really is somewhere on the planet that might be totally unaffected?”

“Exactly,” said Marius, “But it’s all estimates, we don’t know how big this place is or exactly where it is, or even if the flow of the surge was disrupted enough to make a difference.  Hell the surge might not even have a flow at all, but it’s worth a shot.”  Zakorski, do you have a globe?” 

Zakorski took out a small desktop globe from a filing cabinet and Marius held it up, looking at the figures on the screen.  “So which satellite went down first?”

Zakorski looked at the numbers.  “The first geosynchronous satellites to go down were,” she scrolled down the screen, “Astra-5D at thirty meridian west was the first to go down, followed by Echostar-7 at twenty-five west and Americom-1 at thirty-six west.  They spread out from there.  The first ground-based post to go down was our long-range radar station on the southern tip of Greenland.  That seems to match with the satellites.”

Marius spun the globe.  “So if it hit first somewhere in the North-Atlantic, then the shadow would fall somewhere in the South Pacific between,” he looked closely at the globes small lettering, drawing a circle with his finger, “Between Fiji, New Zeland and Papua New Guinea.”

Zakorski took the globe. “And with satellites and landlines down they’d be totally cut off from us, I’ve got to tell the General about this.  Wait here.”

After waiting for twenty minutes Marius suggested they explore; how far could they wander anyway if the Captain wanted to find them?  They entered the main assembly area of the Mountain, with a vaulted granite ceiling towering at least sixty-feet off the ground.  In front of them was a hive of activity; soldiers were preparing vehicles, loading them with ammunition and supplies, others were putting on battledress, replete with kneepads and wraparound dark glasses.  On one side was a separate cavernous vehicle bay, where a squad was constructing a dozen or so large pens from steel mesh and scaffolding poles.

“What’s going on?” said Brian to a Corporal about to address his men.

“We’re getting ready for war Sir.”

“War? Against who?” said Brian.

“Against the savages Sir, we’re going on the offensive.  Orders are to kill anyone perceived as a threat and to capture any women or children, if circumstances allow.”

Brian knew that the people outside could be dangerous, but using military firepower on them in this way was extreme.  Everything he and Marius had done so far had been self-defence, using reasonable force, even where that force had been lethal.  Going on the offensive was like going on the offensive against the mentally ill; it didn’t feel right.  Marius insisted they find Zakorski immediately and they tracked her down coming out of the General’s office.  Her face was red and she was holding back tears. 

“I tried to stop them,” she said, “you saw the holding pens right? That’s their compromise.  Try and save some women and kids, kill the rest.”

“Is there anything we can do?” said Marius.

“Not unless you can get a line to the White House,” said Zakorski, “Also the General wants to see you both.  I’ve been ordered to check on the construction. He’s inside.” Zakorski motioned to the wooden door behind her. “Good luck.”

Brian knocked timidly on the door.  No answer.  Marius knocked much harder and a voice told them to come in.

Inside the General sat with his aide and the Brigadier. 

“Take a seat gentlemen,” said the General, “Marius and…”

“Brian,” said the aide before Brain could answer.

“You boys are scientists right?” said the General.

“That is correct Sir,” said Marius.

“Well as you may have heard, we are looking to stabilize the situation outside.  We can’t stay in here forever and there are some innocent folks; women and children, who, while they may be mentally lacking, are perhaps not beyond redemption.”

“Redemption Sir?” said Brian.

“Yes, let me rephrase - innocent is probably the wrong word.  Whatever innocence those people had is lost.  What we want to do is try and rescue the most harmless of what we have left out there.”

“And the rest?” said Marius.

“Anyone who tries to stop us or puts my men in danger will be prevented from doing so,” said the General.

“Consider it collateral damage,” said the Brigadier, looking pleased with his contribution.

“No goddamnit,” said the General, glowering at the Brigadier, “It’s not collateral damage if it’s the enemy you’re killing.  They’re not civilians anymore.” He returned to Brian and Marius, “Look gentlemen, I know you know what it’s like out there and this strategy is not up for discussion.  I asked you to come and see me because I want to ask your help.”

“Help Sir?” said Brian, wondering what help they could possibly give to such an operation.

“Yes - Marius, Brian, I would like you to oversee the re-education of anyone that we rescue.  My men will be responsible for securing them and keeping them fed but I want you to be in charge of the academic side.  Anything you can do to speed up their re-integration, as stable members of society, means the more we can take in and save.”

“Didn’t Zakorski tell you about the swathe and the shadow?” said Marius, “I mean shouldn’t our priority be to try and make contact with those parts of the world that may be unaffected?”

Brian could tell the General was not impressed.  “What the Captain was telling me is that maybe, somewhere on the other side of the planet, someone in Fiji might be OK?  I’m sorry but that seems the least of our concerns right now.”

“But Sir,” said Brian, “The whole of Australia might be unaffected; and they’d be just as clueless about what had happened to us with all communication cut-off.”

The General turned his back to face a large map of the world. “Well good for them, but in case you hadn’t noticed we are in the United States, the country we enlisted to serve and protect.  Australia is a long, long way from here, especially for a trip that might turn out to be the biggest waste of time since we tried to teach the Afghans how to be peaceful.” 

Brian looked at Marius who gave him a nod, as if to say don’t push it. “We accept, the teaching part that is,” he said, “But one request if you please, General?”

“Go ahead,” said the General.

“May we have Zakorski on our team?”

“She already is.  This whole re-integration thing was her idea; in fact she was the one who suggested you.  Her team’s been put in charge of food, medical and sanitation for anyone who ends up in the pens.  Thank you gentlemen.” 

That was their cue to leave and the General and his aide returned to the paperwork on his desk.  The Brigadier followed them out and closed the door behind him.

“One thing the General forgot to mention gentlemen,” said the Brigadier, “Is that if you fail, we are not keeping anyone alive as pets.  You will have two weeks to prove re-integration is feasible, beyond that we can’t yet justify the loss of resources.”

They walked back through the granite corridor to where the holding pens were being assembled.  Sparks flew from arc welding machines and Zakorski was already overseeing the placement of buckets and sponges in each cell.  Brian also noticed that several of the trucks and Humvees that had been in the vehicle bay before they went into the General’s office had now gone.

“So that’s the plan,” said Marius as they walked up to the Captain.

Zakorski didn’t look up from her task. “You onboard?”

“Do we have any choice?” said Marius, “We’ll do our best, maybe we can save a few more, maybe not.”

“Phase one is to try and secure our zone of operation; drive people out of the town with what we have.  But if that fails the General will move to phase two.”

“Phase two?” said Brian.

“That means going to the air force base and looking for something more nasty to get rid of the population,” said Zakorski.

“Like gas?” said Marius.

“Exactly,” said Zakorski, “There’s all kinds of munitions stored up there, it’s just a matter of finding what they’re looking for and rigging it up to go off somewhere in the centre.”

“Jesus,” said Brian, “From land of the free to the final solution in two weeks.”

Zakorski spoke in monotone, drained of emotion.  “They say we’ll need the land to start farming eventually and the population poses too big a risk to the food supply, as well as the risk of disease and aggression.”

“But if we can prove people are capable of getting better, they’ll change their minds right?” said Brian.

She gave him a blank look that didn’t inspire confidence, “We can only try.  The first ones will be arriving in a few hours.  We just need to keep our heads and think of a way of finding out if anyone else is still broadcasting on the other side of the planet, before…”

Marius looked at her, “Before what?”

“Before things get worse.”

All three fell silent for a moment. 

Brian attempted to break the mood.  “Right so who wants coffee?” 

They both nodded and he walked to the mess to get the drinks; but mainly to give himself a chance to process all that was happening. 

As he carried the coffee back he wasn’t sure how he felt; he was happy to be safe, to have hot coffee and the protection the Mountain provided.  Until then he and Marius had been doing what they had to do to survive, but the luxury of safety meant time to think and in theory time to make plans.  What shocked him was the calm and orderly manner in which the soldiers were going about their business, seemingly untroubled by the moral implications of what was happening.  They had the luxury of following orders; they had a job to do and they were doing it.  There were no choices to be made, only tasks to be efficiently completed.  Was this it?  Even if they could train a few dozen people and reintegrate them, would their fate be to live in a small military protectorate under the rule of a dictator-general?  It was still preferable to living outside, at least he could sleep at night without the fear that somebody would creep up on him and do god knows what. The General was right; they had no way of knowing if somewhere in the South Pacific there was an island of normality.  Even if he knew for sure that Fiji was OK and Australia was soldiering on, he also knew how difficult it had been just to get to the Mountain, but to get to the other side of the planet?  He told himself that for now, like the soldiers, he didn’t have any choices either.  He was part of the machine and would do as he was told.