Directive 17: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Page 7

  “Your position is weak,” Munger said. “The main cathedral is like a slaughterhouse. Easy pickings. We can’t cut off all the access tunnels and entrances. We don’t even know how many of the Zaps are inside with us. And they seem to pop out of the smallest of cracks in the rock. It’s like fighting smoke.”

  “We need a new base,” Alexander said. “We can’t defend the tented city anymore. And we have no idea what’s happened to those people who moved out into the side tunnels to get away from the crowd.”

  “What about the depot?” Murray said.

  The depot was on the same subterranean level as the bunker, along with the telecom room and emergency quarters. Despite the security offered by the vault doors, no one used the bunks in the quarters. It was built for a maximum capacity of twenty. The facility was shielded from the effects of electromagnetic pulses because it had been designed as the United States government’s Doomsday headquarters in the event of nuclear war.

  Sitting more than a hundred miles west of Washington, D.C., its planners imagined the country’s leaders ordering nuclear missile strikes in a final round of mutually assured destruction. None of them could have foreseen the reality that transpired—one where quite literally another species had become the Doomsday threat.

  “We’ve been holding that in case we need to store the equipment again,” Alexander said. “If the solar storms return, or the Zaps develop more advanced weapons such as their plasma sinks, we’ll need to shield what we have left. It’s bad enough we’ve lost almost everything that utilizes electronics, but if we don’t even have helicopters and troop transports…”

  Alexander let the ominous implication hang in the air for a moment.

  “Since most of our equipment was destroyed in the field,” Murray said, shooting a cold glare at Munger, “then we should have plenty of room for the people while reserving some space. The steel doors offer the best protection and the depot tunnel are wide enough to offer the fastest evacuation route if worse comes to worse.”

  “I think it’s already worse,” Munger snapped, resentful of Murray’s jab over his defeat at Wilkesboro. “We’ve kept most of this level secret because you know what will happen once everyone finds out about it.”

  Of course Murray knew. That’s why she insisted on keeping a residence with the others, sleeping in a pup tent on a crumbling foam pad. Rumors filtered around the camp of an underground headquarters, and most people knew the equipment at the base camp outside had come from somewhere, but so far there had been no mass revolt built on the fear that resources were being withheld from them.

  Murray had been extremely careful in integrating the military and civilian populations, with a number of the soldiers having families in the tented cities even when they were stationed outside or on patrol. If she informed them of the depot and ordered a resettlement, the paranoia would likely grow into something ugly.

  “Despite the need for safety, I’m not ready to give away the level,” Murray said. “Even a small rebellion could lead to a hostile takeover. Our radio is the only link we have with our units in the field, NORAD, and the rest of the world.”

  Ziminski spoke for the first time. “I’m only getting scraps. A sentence here, a few words there, some in languages I can’t identify. Mostly it’s just white noise and static.”

  “Doesn’t sound like we’d lose a whole lot,” Munger said. “I propose we forget about the vehicles, bring in our field radios and maybe one Humvee for emergency transportation, and fortify the depot. Bring our people in and secure the perimeter.”

  “And who is going to maintain our solar panels?” Murray said. “Without them, we have no lights and no radio. And how long are our rations going to hold out?”

  “Maybe there’s a middle way,” Alexander said, speaking loudly despite his evident exhaustion. “Assemble a unit to guard our equipment outside and be ready to move it if necessary. In the meantime, we resettle in the depot. It’s nearly as big as the cathedral, so we should be able to fit everyone in if we squeeze together.”

  “Yeah,” Munger said with a scornful laugh. “We should all fit easily, since there’s a lot fewer of us now.”

  “The people are scared,” Murray said. “We shouldn’t make any kneejerk moves or they’ll start to doubt us.”

  “Madame President,” Alexander said, staring down at the table and the crude wooden chess pieces that had once belonged to George Washington, the only remaining memento of the world’s boldest democratic experiment. “They’re past doubt.”

  She looked from Alexander’s grave countenance to Munger’s smirk. Clearly they’d held conversations without her. “What are you saying?”

  “You’re done. They don’t trust you anymore.”

  “I’m the President.”

  “You were,” Alexander said. “But that was a different time. That was the past.”

  “I hold the office by legal right of Constitutional succession,” Murray said, voice rising in anger.

  “Constitution?” Munger looked around with a dramatic lift of his arms. “I don’t see any Constitution.”

  “All right, then. I’m our representative for the Earth Zero Initiative.”

  “Abigail,” Alexander said, indicating how serious this matter was. “Earth Zero doesn’t care about the United States of America. We might never hear from them again. The rest of the countries could be erased already, as far as we know.”

  “NORAD still listens to me,” Murray said, standing in defiance even though she was five inches shorter than Munger. “I still have the final authority on Directive Eighteen.”

  “There’s a reason that was the last directive on the list,” Alexander said. “If NORAD has already unleashed the nuclear arsenal, no contingency plan is needed. There is no Directive Nineteen because we all knew this was hopeless.”

  “There’s always hope.” The words sounded hollow even to Murray. Ziminski looked at her with a mix of sympathy and embarrassment, and then couldn’t hold her gaze.

  “Our only hope is to rein in our borders and tighten up the ship,” Munger said. “And that ship needs a new captain at the helm.”

  Murray looked at Alexander, who merely shook his head. That’s when she realized Munger, Alexander, and Ziminski were all armed.

  “No,” she said. “I won’t resign.”

  “It’s not your choice, Abigail,” Alexander said.

  The realization of their coup settled on her like a frigid, dark cloud. “But…what are you going to tell the people?”

  Munger gave a solemn recitation of his rehearsed speech. “‘Our dear President met her death while bravely battling the enemy, but as we mourn her, the best way to honor her memory is to carry out the plans she discussed with us only recently. She would want us to live on in comfort and security in a new section of Luray Caverns.’”

  “That’s crazy,” Murray said. “I’ll never abandon my people.”

  “Please, Abigail,” Alexander said. “As a friend, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

  “So you’re just going to take me out back and shoot me like this is Stalinist Russia?”

  “We’re not animals,” Munger said. “You’re basically free to go. Consider it political exile if you wish. But you’re welcome to go out there and start your own country and declare yourself president. The one thing we can’t allow is your presence during the transition. I’m sure you can agree that people need a clear message during this challenging time.”

  “I can’t believe you, Arnold,” she said to the general. “We were committed to Earth Zero.”

  “My first duty is to the people under my command,” he said wearily.

  “No need for any more formalities,” Munger said. “Cpl. Ziminski, please make sure our former President has two days’ rations and one revolver with a single round in the chamber. Just in case she prefers an honorable resignation. Then escort her outside via a side tunnel, making sure nobody sees it.”

  Ziminski stood erect and snappe
d off a salute. “Yes, sir.”

  He went to the windowless steel door of the chamber and waited for her. Murray took one last look around the chamber that had been her Oval Office and command post. The flag on the wall was meaningless: without the ideals behind it, it was nothing more than crumbling cloth and fading dye.

  She nodded at Alexander. “I understand, General. I can never forgive you, but your sense of duty clouds your judgment. Good-bye.”

  Murray headed for Ziminski, who was waiting at the door with one hand on the pistol at his hip. “Let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Murray entered the narrow hall and Ziminski stepped out of the command post.

  She half expected sudden impact at the base of the skull that would mark the bullet that ended her reign. That was the classic way to erase a political rival, unless a more dramatic and public execution was desirable.

  Ziminski closed the steel door behind him. He whispered, “Follow me.”

  Instead of leading her to the circular metal stairs that led up into the caverns, he headed for the elevators. Like many of the design features of the bunker system, the elevators were premised upon an optimistic scenario—that large amounts of electricity would be available to operate the two cabs. The array of solar panels barely generated enough juice to provide minimal lighting. Even the small refrigerator that cooled essential medicine like insulin was too much for the system, and several survivors had died from their diabetes.

  Now Murray wondered if all the earlier deaths had been merciful. At least those who’d died years ago didn’t carry the knowledge of human extinction to the next world.

  The elevator cabs had been jimmied open and used as extra storage space, and Ziminski entered one of them. He shoved a gray canvas backpack at Murray and glanced back down the hall. “This is yours.”

  He rummaged through the miscellaneous equipment—antennas, cables, engine parts, damaged armaments—and came out with a metal pole about eight feet long. It was jagged and scorched at one end, as if it had been blasted from a longer section, and Murray recognized it as the barrel of a heavy-caliber machine gun of the sort mounted on Humvees or helicopters.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Following orders.”

  He carried the pole to the chamber door and planted one end at the base of the concrete floor where it met the wall, and then angled the pole down so that the jagged end wedged about two-thirds of the way up the door. He put his weight on the pole so that it tightened with a soft squeal of metal.

  Murray shook her head in astonishment. “They can’t get out.”

  “Exactly,” Ziminski said. His face was flushed with adrenaline, but he moved with a practiced calm. “I didn’t get a chance to measure it out but I figured it was close enough. But we don’t have long. When the general doesn’t show soon, guards will come looking for him.”

  He ducked into the telecom room and collected a rucksack from beneath the table that housed the shortwave radio. He donned it along with a rifle that he slung over one shoulder. “Sorry. No weapon for you. If anyone sees us on the inside, you’re a prisoner. Once we’re outside, I’m your guard, okay?”

  She nodded in understanding. “They never intended to let me leave her alive, did they?”

  “Oh, that part was planned. They figured you wouldn’t last a day, and their cover story would be all the better if a patrol later found your mutilated body. Munger wanted to do you in, but the general overruled him.”

  “I guess friendship counts for something.”

  Ziminski touched the surface of the shortwave radio in affection. It was primitive by the standards of the early Twenty-First Century, but its simplicity turned out to be a blessing. Most of the bunker’s advanced technology had been scavenged and the remains piled in the elevators.

  “I wish we could take it,” he said.

  “Take it where?”

  “It’s too bulky. But I can’t decide if I should destroy it.”

  “Now you’ve lost me.” Murray realized the soldier was disobeying Alexander’s orders, but she didn’t see the purpose. She’d resigned herself to her exile and death sentence, feeling sorrow not for herself but for the people who counted on her leadership. And now this skinny geek was committing treason without a plan that she could see.

  If not for the solar storms, he’d probably be sitting in a college dorm, smoking dope and playing videogames. Now he’s risking his life for me.

  “Only a few soldiers know about the coup,” Ziminski said, heading for the circular stairs. “Gen. Alexander really cares about how the story goes down. Munger doesn’t give a shit. He’d be thrilled if everybody knew they’d kicked you out and taken over.”

  Murray followed. As they ascended, she heard banging and muffled shouts.

  Ziminski chuckled. “Munger’s going to shit brass tacks when he finds out. Almost wish I could stick around and see it.”

  The top of the stairs opened to a series of three narrow hallways carved into the limestone. One led into the depot, one led to a natural tunnel that connected with the cathedral and wider cavern system, and the third was a secret exit that few knew about besides the administration. As a member of the inner circle due to his communications talents, Ziminski was privy to the evacuation route.

  “After you, Madame President,” he said.

  “You sure you’re not going to shoot me?”

  “Like I said, I’m following orders. And I recognize the Earth Zero Initiative as the supreme command. Until there’s a directive issued that declares otherwise, you’re our representative to the Initiative.”

  Murray smiled and gave a quick salute. “Cpl. Ziminski, I think you’re soon going to be my ranking officer.”

  “Only if we survive,” Ziminski said, giving her a little push into the nearly-dark tunnel.

  They didn’t speak as they navigated the suffocating shaft, which was illuminated only by tiny lights spaced at fifty-foot intervals. Murray had traveled the upward-sloping route only a few times before, mostly as practice runs in the event of an emergency evacuation. Now she was fleeing for a reason she would never have foreseen: betrayal at the hands of those she’d trusted.

  When they emerged into the sunlight, they were on a rocky ridge about half a mile above the main entrance to Luray Caverns. Ziminski fished a pair of binoculars from his rucksack and scanned the valley below. Murray could see the Blackhawk helicopter in the clearing, with the pilot and another man checking the engine.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s raised the alarm,” Ziminski said.

  “You think everybody’s on Munger’s side?”

  “You kidding? He’s military. Most of these guys would never be soldiers in the real world, but give them guns and stripes and they get caught up in the fantasy. Everybody’s scared shitless. You should know as well as anybody that scared people are easy to manipulate.”

  “Maybe that’s why I was such a bad president,” Murray said. “I tried to inspire confidence.”

  “You’re a kickass president,” Ziminski said. “Earth Zero needs more people like you.”

  Despite her anxiety and weariness, she smiled. “More people like you, too. One day, when we—”

  “No time for that.” He jogged away from the rocky promontory and entered the trees. “Watch for Zaps.”

  She’d been so consumed with Alexander’s overthrow and the loss of New Pentagon that she hadn’t thought about Zaps in at least an hour. It was the longest such stretch since the solar storms hit five years ago. She hurried after him, rejuvenated by his optimism and sacrifice.

  Maybe a few people received my message after all.

  Murray had no idea where they were, but Ziminski was apparently familiar with the terrain. She wondered how long he’d known about the coup. Munger had probably been poisoning Alexander’s mind for months, maybe even years. The brazen Zap attack on the tented city had been the tipping point.

  The forest leveled out and the bare
trees no longer provided enough cover. They would be seen by the sentries around the cavern entrance. Murray caught up to Ziminski, who was studying their positions.

  He drew his pistol and handed it to her. “You know how to use it?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never wanted to kill anybody. How do you know I won’t decide to shoot you?”

  “The Directives give you the authority to use any resource necessary in order to preserve the human race. I’m your resource. The only ally you have left.”

  “As your commander, then, I request that you fill me in on your plan. You do have a plan, don’t you?”

  “We’d never make it on foot. Gen. Alexander would be happy to let us go, but no way would Munger swallow the humiliation, especially since others know they’ve seized power. He’ll want to prove his power right away. Which is why your friend the general is not long for this world. He’s going to find the knife in his own back before he knows it.”

  Poor Arnold. Nothing’s worked and you feel impotent. No wonder Munger’s been able to spin his nasty little web.

  She was glad she still harbored sympathy for her old friend. It was a sign that she still had some humanity left.

  You’re High President, damn it. Not everything’s about you. You can pat yourself on the back later, once you’ve saved the human race on behalf of Earth Zero.

  “So walking is out,” Murray said. “Dare we steal a Humvee? Or maybe a couple of the horses down at the stable?”

  Ziminski grinned and pointed to the clearing, where the Blackhawk was barely visible through the stands of trees. “Flying is the only way to fly.”

  “No way.”

  “You’re the president. You can do whatever you want. Directive Seventeen, remember?”

  Murray let her game face crease her features. “Damn right. Let’s do this.”

  They walked into the clearing with Ziminski behind her like a security escort. Murray headed straight for the pilot, who was dressed in a dirty gray flight suit. The soldier beside him slammed a maintenance panel into place and secured the latches that held it to the fuselage.