Glimmer of Hope: Book 1 of Post-Apocalyptic Series

  SHADOWS OF BEFORE

  Shadows of Before

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2018 by Ryan King. All Rights Reserved.

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  Shadows of Before

  Book IV in the Land of Tomorrow series

  by Ryan King

  Copyright © 2018 by Ryan King

  For my son, Isaiah, who actually read one of my books

  Shadows of Before

  Book IV of the Land of Tomorrow Series

  by Ryan King

  Copyright © 2018 by Ryan King

  Prologue

  Simon didn’t really mind the apocalypse. As a matter of fact, he rather enjoyed it. He could do pretty much everything he enjoyed before the nukes fell—eating, sleeping, and messing with computers— without someone screwing with him. No more questions like, When are you going to start living your life?

  No, not anymore. His technical skills were what had allowed them all to function. Simon’s willingness, nay eagerness, to monitor the larger situation had allowed others to go about their business.

  A flurry of laughter from the other room caused him to look to his left. Normally, he didn’t hear them with his headset on, but the radio intercepting traffic from the north had stopped two weeks ago and the headset lay on the console in front of him. Listening to the sporadic Jackson Purchase broadcasts had filled him with wonder, like listening to alien messages from Saturn, but then they had just…stopped. He felt that somewhere up north, where the old Jackson Purchase had been near the western Kentucky-Tennessee border, something bad had happened.

  What used to be Kentucky and Tennessee, he reminded himself.

  More laughter. Simon looked in that direction and could tell they were watching an episode of WKRP in Cincinnati. A show he actually used to liked, but seeing every episode a dozen or more times took the enjoyment out of it. Not so for the other residents of Site Conway, who laughed at the same old scenes of Doctor Johnny Fever and Les Nesman.

  There were vast corridors and rooms filled with armored vehicles, weapons, ammunition and supplies, but you could only look at it all so much. Simon knew that it had been intended for the surviving remnants of the military to rally, rearm, and continue the fight, but no one had shown.

  No one except Simon.

  They hadn’t wanted to let him in, of course. He was an outsider, and they had worked at the secret facility for decades. Lewis and Derek were the maintenance technicians, and Austin was the janitor. His entry into their supposedly secret and secure world had scared the shit out of them and their families, which they had brought into the facility against regulations after the nukes. His activation of protocols that they didn’t even know existed had allowed him entry into Site Conway…and nearly gotten him shot. It was only his wits and near-magical abilities with electronics, at least in their eyes, that had won them over.

  Still, he wasn’t really part of them, although most of his fellow residents politely pretended otherwise. An effort he appreciated despite its futility.

  The lights flickered as a bad glop of fuel choked its way through the massive generators below them. The laughter in the next room abruptly stopped. After a few seconds, the lights grew strong again, and Simon felt the tension melt away. His fellows went on in their obtuse avoidance of the larger problem lurking all around them.

  We need an exit strategy, he thought. One that doesn’t involve death, torture, or slavery.

  He wondered again how much time they had left, but the truth was no one really knew. Site Conway had been fortunate to get a delivery of diesel fuel just before the end. Two tanker trucks had topped off the massive fuel reservoirs.

  That had been almost two years ago, and those massive tanks were less than a third empty. No, the amount of fuel wasn’t the issue, its volatility was.

  It was Austin the janitor who had finally brought their attention to the issue. A former long-time gas station attendant, when the world still had such things, he knew his way around fuel. They were all eating warmed-up Meals Ready to Eat sometime in the middle of the night. In the bunker, it didn’t really matter what time of the day it was. Everyone tried to stay on a normal day-night schedule, but it just didn’t work. People woke up in the middle of the night and, with not much else to do, had a snack. Snack being an understatement considering each MRE had a day’s worth of calories for a soldier in a combat environment. Simon chose his favorite, ham slice, and quietly joined the other men in the facility, their wives and children asleep. The four of them sat and ate wordlessly.

  Lewis had finally asked how long those hundreds of thousands of MREs stacked up in hanger twelve would last before going bad. Austin had told him at least five years and Lewis insisted more. Derek had asked how old they were to begin with.

  “The food isn’t going to be a problem,” said Austin. “We got lots of that, and besides, the fuel will go bad long before these damn things will. So much preservatives in them you could likely eat them after the next ice age.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” asked Lewis. “Fuel doesn’t go bad.”

  Austin nodded vigorously around a mouthful of eternity spaghetti. He swallowed with difficulty and wiped his mouth. “Why you think those strategic oil reserves down in Texas aren’t called the strategic gas reserves?”

  “Who gives a damn what they’re called?” asked Derek. “And what does it have to do with us anyway?”

  “Fuel is an unstable form,” Simon blurted out, his mind running ahead. He was so dumbfounded by the idea that he missed the looks of amazement that he had spoken at all.

  Austin pointed his spoon at Simon. “Right. Gasoline breaks down over time. Same with diesel. Mixing new fuel with old fuel helps, but when the same fuel just sits, it loses its...what would you call it...”

  “Boom?” offered Derek.

  “Volatility,” said Simon.

  Lewis, their self-appointed leader, looked at Simon disapprovingly before he turned back to Austin. “How long before the fuel starts going bad?”

  “Already started. Fuel just sitting doesn’t usually last much more than a year.”

  “But it’s been almost two,” said Lewis. “Why haven’t the generators broken down?”

  “Because I’ve been adding fuel preservatives,” answered Austin. “There are cases of that stuff. Guess the whack-jobs who designed this place knew this would be a problem.”

  Lewis’ face got tight and red. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  Austin shrugged and took another bite of food. “Nothing to tell really. There was a problem and I fixed it. I do stuff like that around here all the time that you all never notice.”

  Simon at that point had wandered away from the increasingly heated conversation. Several of the wives and children had crept into the room drawn by the raised voices. Simon wanted no part of that drama. Besides, he needed to think, and his best thinking was done alone.

  And think he had. The problem wasn’t getting more fuel. Whatever they found would also be going bad, or maybe already had without the fuel stabilizers. No, they needed fresh fuel, and for that, you needed oil and gas refineries. Based on the radio intercepts and reports from Cheyenne Mountain, Simon seriously doubted Shell or Chevron were busy filling tanker trucks with fresh gasoline or diesel.

  The generators were going to go down. And when that happe
ned, Site Conway would become a giant crypt. They needed a new place to go, but where?

  The sudden rapid beeping startled Simon out of his thoughts. He frantically grabbed a pencil and paper and copied before he could forget the letters. He already knew who the message was from. No matter how many times he told them, Cheyenne Mountain just couldn’t understand why it would be helpful if there were a greeting or alert or something to get ready before blasting their series of dots and dashes. Thankfully, Simon was very good at Morse Code.

  It had been him who had fixed the digital relay and radio transmitter before venturing outside to install the antenna which had blown down in one of the storms. Lewis and company had been convinced they were all alone until Simon and his transmitter had discovered differently. Fortunately, he knew the true secret of the United States Continuity of Government Plan, putting him in extremely rare company. Lewis, Derek, and Austin knew of Site Conway’s existence, and even its purpose, but none of them knew how it fit into the larger picture.

  None of them except Simon. And he did not feel it was in his best interest to reveal this information to his bunker mates, nor how he had received it. So, they went on thinking rightly that he was a computer whiz, and wrongly that he was nothing else.

  Simon had thrown on the headphones as he scribbled. Everyone else had gathered around him, staring at his writing with stunned looks on their faces, like cavemen watching a ballet. He almost laughed at this image and had to force himself to concentrate on what he was doing. The asshole at the other end obviously felt the need to show off by transmitting as fast as was manually possible.

  Finally, the beeping stopped, and Simon pulled off the headset.

  “What’s it say?” asked Lewis, leaning over to look at the piece of paper.

  Simon pulled it out of his sight and studied it carefully with growing alarm. He read it through again, hoping maybe that he had made a mistake.

  “Come on, Simon,” said one of Lewis’ snotty boys. “What’s it say?”

  Simon sighed and was suddenly tired. He handed the message to Lewis.

  “It’s from Cheyenne Mountain,” Lewis said, studying the message. “Says there’s been a nuclear event northeast of us.”

  “What the hell do they mean by a nuclear event?” asked Derek.

  “That’s why the JP broadcasts stopped,” said Simon.

  Lewis looked around at everyone. “They want us to send someone to check it out and report back.”

  “Go outside?” said Austin’s wife in horror.

  “Don’t they have satellites and drones for this sort of stuff?” asked Derek.

  Simon shook his head. “Satellites can only tell so much, and the range is too far for the drones out in Colorado. They want someone to go up there and actually talk to people.”

  “That’s freaking suicide,” said Derek.

  “Not exactly,” answered Simon absentmindedly. “I did make my way here, after all. I’ve been outside dozens of times.”

  Lewis looked at him critically. “Yes, you have. Seems like you may be uniquely qualified for something like this.”

  “Now hang on,” said Austin. “We can’t just send Simon out there on his own. He’s weird as shit, I’ll give you that, but he’s one of us.”

  “Thanks,” said Simon.

  “Seriously,” continued Austin, “why don’t we just tell those govie remnants to kiss our asses? It’s not like they can do anything to us.”

  Simon appreciated Austin’s less-than-flattering argument on his behalf, but thought he might be wrong about them not being able to do anything to them from Colorado. Part of setting up the comms and getting the digital systems online had been to allow them satellite burst transmission access as well as super administrator privileges. There had been a large number of unknown downloads and uploads. Simon had been unable to determine their purpose but suspected Cheyenne Mountain had some measure of control over Site Conway. Control they had so far not chosen to exercise.

  Besides, they still needed an exit strategy. Those generators were going to die.

  As if to emphasize his thoughts, the lights flickered and lurched for a full ten seconds before coming on again.

  “Goodness gracious,” said Derek, “this place is falling apart.”

  Lewis looked daggers at the man and slowly cut his eyes deliberately towards the children gathered nearby.

  Derek turned his head slowly to look at their attentive faces. “I’m just joking. You know that, right? Everything is just fine. No need to be concerned. This place isn’t falling apart at all.”

  “Anyway, maybe it’s a good idea if we do send someone out,” said Lewis. “We don’t really know much of what is going on in the outside world except that everything is gone. We should send someone to go look and come back.”

  “Someone?” asked Simon. “Do we pick straws or something?”

  Everyone except Lewis looked away from him in embarrassment. A long silence spread out around them.

  Austin cleared his throat, and he turned to the families. “Why don’t y’all try to go back to sleep now? It’s late.”

  “Yeah, you got a big day of watching DVDs and crawling around on old tanks,” said Derek sarcastically.

  Lewis again looked angrily at Derek, but for once, the man met his gaze levelly. Slowly, the wives and children moved away back to their quarters.

  “Maybe we should draw straws,” said Austin. “I’m still not convinced we need to do this at all, but if we are, that seems like a fair way to chose.”

  “Simon should go,” said Lewis. “That’s fair. He’s got the most experience topside since...Armageddon. He also doesn’t have a family. The rest of us have responsibilities.”

  Derek and Austin looked away.

  Simon wanted to be angry, but all he felt was sad. He couldn’t even argue with their logic. Besides, he knew someone had to figure something out. They had to find another place to live. Without electricity, Site Conway might actually lock them all inside and slowly suffocate them in the dark.

  He turned away and began pecking out electronic letters.

  “What are you writing?” asked Austin.

  “I’m telling them that I’m going,” answered Simon.

  Part I

  Fading Light

  Chapter 1 - Foretelling

  Nathan had to force himself to stop fiddling with his hands. It had become an unconscious habit for him to try and hide the EX brand on the webbing of his right hand. Although he was no longer an exile, he felt the eyes as they lighted upon it. This was typically followed by a look of realization, or anger, or even pity.

  It made him want to scream, Yes, he was my son, and I’m proud of him. David saved all of us, don’t you understand?

  Instead, he did his best to ignore the looks, and he and Bethany largely mourned in private. Between David’s part in the Slaughter at the Battle of Fulton, his blowing up the gun powder factory and oil refinery at Murray State University, and his setting off a nuke at Fulton, David Taylor was not seen in the best of light.

  Maybe history will be kinder. Possibly kinder to him than me, he thought, looking around at the rows of grim horsemen lining the path before him.

  “I thought this was supposed to be a simple affair,” said Luke Carter beside him.

  Nathan nodded. “It was. The peace deal was concluded months ago right after the war ended. This was just going to be a formality.”

  “I guess the Creek wanted to make a show of it.”

  Indeed, thought Nathan. They likely wanted their people to witness the Jackson Purchase formally ceding back ancestral lands to the Creek Nation. They would see this as a pivotal moment and a redemption of sorts. Unprecedented really, Nathan realized. He couldn’t think of any other example of indigenous people reclaiming their lands after losing them hundreds of years before.

  A heavy drum started to beat slowly.

  “I think that means we’re supposed to walk forward,” Luke commented.

  “Let’s
not keep them waiting then.” He stepped off, walking with his head and back straight, and Luke fell into pace beside him. Nathan could have done this alone, but he had hopes of finally leaving public service, and one of the oldest idioms of government work was that you had to train your replacement before anyone would let you leave. With any luck, Luke would become the next JP Chief of Defense, and then Nathan could spend more time with his family.

  He saw a young woman through the line of Creek warriors to his right. She was strikingly beautiful and held a small baby that smiled innocently at the world.

  Bethany had taken David’s death hard, but the birth of their daughter River had soothed away some of the pain. Even so, the pregnancy had been hard on his wife, and even now, months later, she tired easily and had lost weight. It seemed she was paler by the day, although she swore she felt fine.

  They would need all their strength in the days ahead. Not only did they have a baby daughter in their mature years, as he liked to call it, but they were soon to be grandparents. Joshua and Alexandra’s baby was due in the fall.

  His leg locked up, and Luke caught his arm as he stumbled.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” answered Nathan, rubbing the old wound, forcing himself to straighten and walk normally despite the pain that came and went without warning. A brief image of Joshua yanking the rusty rebar spear out of his thigh flashed in his mind, and he pushed it away quickly.

  The path of Red Stick warriors curved and led them down towards a bend in the Tennessee River. Beside the river was a traditional deer-hide shelter with brightly colored tarps connecting it to a large recreational vehicle that would obviously never move again. In front of the shelter, a small fire smoldered, and several individuals waited. A boy with a large wooden drum sat off to the side, hitting the surface with a steady cadence and a look of forced solemnity.