Apocalypse Trails: Episode 1 Read online

  At the entrance, the commander’s progress was abruptly halted.

  Someone had erected another barricade across all of the doublewide glass doors leading to the interior. Through the shattered glass of the heavy threshold, Jack could spot desks, a large copy machine, two fire extinguishers, and a variety of other materials that had been stacked up to block the entrance. “Shit.”

  Turning to wave forward the rest of the Utah crew, Jack reported, “We’re going to have to push some of this stuff out of the way to get in. I doubt that’s going to be easy, sir. And a sneak attack is out of the question.”

  “My God,” Ulrich stated, his flashlight sweeping the doorway. “Talk about a last stand. Someone was bound and determined to hold this building.”

  “Yes, sir, and they’re probably still inside.”

  “If they survived,” the captain whispered.

  It took them nearly 20 minutes of pushing, pulling, and tossing aside items from the blockade to clear a small passage. Ulrich, after updating Utah on their status, motioned for Jack to continue inside.

  The stench was indescribable.

  As he stepped through the doorway, Jack was assaulted by a mixture of cordite, diesel fuel, and rotting flesh. A lot of rotting flesh.

  His flashlight found the lobby area empty other than the hundreds of spent shell casings and a few now-familiar green ammunition boxes scattered here and there. Part of the white marble floor was covered with a dull black coating, the commander unsure if the discoloration was blood or some other liquid.

  Pulling the cover tight over his nose and mouth, Jack turned and announced, “All clear,” stepping aside as the rest of the team entered.

  A bank of elevators lined the back wall of the area, a wide, long hall leading right and left. Jack didn’t know which way to go.

  “Follow the shell casings,” Ulrich offered, his beam of light indicating a trail of brass breadcrumbs in the left corridor. “Besides, the main communications facility is that way.”

  Halfway down the broad passage, they encountered the first body.

  The jarhead was propped against the wall, an empty canteen perched on his lap. There was a single bullet hole entering under his chin, the wall behind him stained dark from the gore and grey matter sprayed on the plaster surface. A pistol was clutched in the dead man’s hand.

  “Suicide?” Jack offered. “Really? It got that bad?”

  “Who’s there?” a scratchy voice demanded from the communications center hallway. “This is a restricted facility. I have a weapon.”

  Ulrich and Cisco exchanged looks. Finally, a survivor.

  “This is Captain Ulrich, US Navy, commander of the USS Utah. We mean no harm.”

  An uncomfortable and extensive silence descended upon all of them in anticipation of the response. Finally, a fit of coughing barked from a distance, followed by, “I told you on the radio, Captain, there is no USS Utah on the books.”

  “Colonel Thompson?” the skipper questioned.

  “Yes,” the man replied, followed by more hacking. “Hell, come on in and do what you will. I can’t stop you anyway.”

  They found him on an office couch, in the middle of what had obviously been the man’s quarters for some time. There was a stack of paperbacks on the floor, several M16 rifles along one wall, and a mixture of uniform parts piled in the corner.

  It was also evident that the Colonel was dying.

  Jack had no idea of the Marine officer’s age, but the man looked to be in his late seventies. His skin was loose, hanging from beneath dirty, silver hair that was well beyond regulation length. The rattling wetness in the colonel’s lungs added to the ghoulish effect.

  Stick-thin, his hands shook with weakness as the Marine tried to rise and sit. He didn’t make it, returning to his yellow, stained pillow with a deep sigh of frustration. The odor inside the colonel’s temporary quarters was horrible, a mixture of old human sweat and death. Again, Cisco was glad for the cloth that served as a mask.

  A brief flash of relief seemed to flicker behind the colonel’s eyes when he spied the uniforms on Utah’s sailors. The fact that his visitors hadn’t come in blasting away with their rifles was no doubt a positive sign.

  Ulrich and Cisco shook the man’s hand after each had thrown a quick salute. His skin was hot, palms moist with perspiration despite the temperature inside the building being rather chilly.

  The first question out of the fading leatherneck’s mouth was, “Did you see Lieutenant Shelby on the way in?”

  “Sir? We didn’t see anyone … at least anyone that was alive,” Ulrich responded.

  “Oh, well, you couldn’t miss Shelby. He is my second in command and has the brightest red hair I’ve ever seen on a Marine.”

  Jack thought back to the man they had found in the hall, the one missing the back of his head. He had red hair. The commander decided to keep his observation to himself.

  “He’s a good officer but has developed a tendency to wander off as of late. Normally, I wouldn’t tolerate such behavior, but since we’re the only two left, I’ve decided to show some leniency.”

  “There are only two of you left?” Ulrich repeated for clarification.

  Thompson seemed not to have heard the question. Leaning forward as if he was about to share a terrible secret, his continued, “To be frank, Captain, I’m a little worried about Shelby. He’s not quite been himself the past few weeks. Sometimes extended combat can have negative effects on a man, if you know what I mean.”

  “I understand, sir. These are difficult times, to be sure.”

  The colonel seemed to drift off for a moment, his exhausted face showing bewilderment. “I was just lying here trying to remember if Shelby had reported for duty this morning. Since I’ve been under the weather, my mind isn’t as sharp.”

  Ulrich threw his second a troubled glance that said, “This man has lost his cookies.” Both of Utah’s officers knew good and well that Shelby hadn’t reported for several days.

  Jack decided to try to bring the Marine back to reality. “What happened here, Colonel? We’ve been out at sea for months, ordered to maintain radio silence and avoid all contact. We were running low on supplies and had to come in.”

  Jack’s declaration seemed to confuse the officer. “You don’t know?” the sick officer finally managed.

  “We know that Yellowstone erupted and that earthquakes and tsunamis have ravaged the Pacific coast. That’s about it,” Utah’s skipper answered.

  “It was a lot more than the west coast,” Thompson managed as another bout of hacks and coughs racked his frame.

  Jack worried the man was going to expire before they could have a discussion. Evidently, Ulrich thought the same. “Sir, let me radio my sub and get you some medical care. We have a fairly competent pharmacist mate aboard and a fully stocked infirmary.”

  “No,” Thompson replied immediately. “I don’t think your man is going to fix this,” he continued, pulling back the sheet to reveal the worst looking leg either naval officer had ever seen.

  The colonel’s skin was black from the knee down, a greenish pus oozing from a filthy, soiled bandage wrapped around the officer’s calf. “It was only a flesh wound,” Thompson offered. “I tried to keep it clean, but there has barely been enough water to drink. Our causalities consumed all of our antibiotics after the first week.”

  Jack wasn’t a doctor, but his instincts said that the leg needed to come off. Thompson seemed to read his thoughts. “I’d prefer to go out at my post than lose this limb, Commander. Even if your surgeon could save my life, a one-legged old Marine wouldn’t last long in today’s world. No, thank you, gentlemen. I’ll stay right here until the end.”

  Ulrich tried to reason with the wounded Marine for another five minutes, the conversation extended several times due to the convulsions that tore through Thompson’s weakened body.

  Finally, Utah’s skipper relented, changing the subject in hopes of gathering Intel. “So what happened to Washington? T
he Pentagon? The rest of the country?” he asked the waning Marine.

  The questions brought a look of despondency to Thompson’s face. “I can’t answer some of your questions, Captain, because frankly, I don’t know. I was ordered up here from 29 Palms and told to secure this facility. I brought over 400 of the best Marine infantrymen a man could ever hope to command. We managed to hold the base for three weeks before we had to retreat back to this building. As for the condition of the rest of the country, I couldn’t really say; volcanic ash seems to interfere with our communications systems.”

  Jack had a million questions, as did Ulrich. Thompson, after another hacking spell, didn’t give them a chance to ask.

  “According to the occasional shortwave transmissions we intercepted, Kansas City had over 10 feet of ash, suffocating citizens by the tens of thousands. Years ago, I had the best BBQ ribs there. I was on leave, visiting a friend from Annapolis. I forget the name of the restaurant … the Red Apron … or was it….”

  “Sir? The eruption? The volcano?” Ulrich said kindly, trying to get the Colonel back on track.

  “Yes. Sorry, as I was saying, the New Madrid Fault ruptured, redirecting the Mississippi River right through downtown Memphis. Dallas reported softball-sized hunks of pumice pummeling their city like hail. Florida was struck by a 25-foot high tsunami, practically submerging the entire state. Chicago lost millions to a cloud of sulfur dioxide. The Ramapo Fault back east split in half, crumbling buildings in New York City and causing the Holland Tunnel to collapse. I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture.”

  Jack was stunned as he listened to Thompson’s frail words, his first thoughts consumed by Mylie and the girls. Had his loved ones made it to Texas? Were they safe? The pain and frustration of not knowing surged through the commander’s soul. His first impulse was to grab a telephone, but no such utility existed. His pre-apocalypse mind then raced to the idea of renting a car, but that was just as impossible as booking a flight. The situation was maddening.

  “And the government?” Jack asked, still not sure if he was hearing accurate information or the feverish delusions of a very ill mind.

  The colonel managed a shrug. “The president declared martial law, but that didn’t stop the food riots from breaking out a few weeks after the eruption. The last radio broadcast we received was from a submarine … the Utah as I recall.”

  Jack and his skipper exchanged worried looks, wondering what the officer lying in front of them had endured to reach such a broken mental state. Given what they had seen so far, it was easy to understand.

  “What happened here at the base, sir?” Jack tried again.

  “Shelby?” Thompson smiled, looking directly at Jack. “Lieutenant, where have you been? I was beginning to worry they had finally got you, son.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Jack played along.

  Ulrich cut in, “What happened here, Colonel? Who were your Marines fighting?”

  The question caused Thompson to frown, and then his eyes grew damp with emotion. “I had to fight my fellow Americans, Captain. I had to kill my countrymen. Please pray for my soul.”

  Chapter 3

  The colonel’s mental state seemed to degrade with exhaustion, and eventually, Ulrich decided to let the man rest.

  The skipper then ordered additional crew from Utah to the communications facility, “We need to inventory this building and salvage what we can.”

  Chief Daniels was tasked with forming additional shore patrols to conduct a search of the base. “Don’t leave this vicinity without permission,” Ulrich firmly stated. “Keep in radio contact at all times. The Marines were fighting with ordinary citizens if the colonel’s story is to be believed. Those hostiles might still be in the area.”

  They found an armory, filled to the brim with military weapons but little ammunition. It was evident from the condition of the rifles that many had been picked up after the battle, the original owner no longer capable of using the gun.

  There was little food and only a few plastic bottles of water remaining. “At least Thompson was accurate about that,” Jack informed his captain. “I wonder about the rest of his story, though.”

  Jack nodded, “He was receiving second-hand information via shortwave, probably a lot of it civilian traffic. There’s no way to judge the accuracy. Still, it makes sense if you think about it. A chain reaction of events would explain the lack of radio communications and the evaporation of the high command.”

  Ulrich shook his head, “So the greatest nation on earth has fallen? There’s no one left? I find that hard to believe, Commander.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there are federal officials hiding out in some secret bunker. There are probably military units still active here and there, maybe even local or state governments functioning at some level. Problem is, how do we contact them?”

  Ulrich seemed to drift off for a moment, finally mumbling, “And what would we say if we did get in touch with someone? What would we ask them?”

  “We’re still in the service of the United States of America, sir,” Jack said, hoping his voice carried more determination than he was really feeling.

  The skipper was honest. “If she still exists, Commander. We spotted two carriers and several ships of the line in this harbor. All of them significant military assets. Yet, no one has come from back east to check on them? They sit abandoned and exposed in an unguarded base. That’s not the action of a functioning, sovereign nation.”

  “So what do we do, sir?”

  The captain stood at that moment, pacing back and forth for a few laps before answering. “That is the question of the day, is it not? We are low on supplies, and the crew’s morale is sinking like a stone. The men are wondering about their families and the future, and I don’t blame them.”

  “I have to admit, more and more of my mental capacity has been devoted to the whereabouts of Mylie and the girls, sir. I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on my duties. I’m sure the men are experiencing the same issues.”

  “Hell, I’m in the same boat,” Ulrich admitted. “Ever since we ran into the Korean freighter, I’ve not been playing my ‘A’ game. Originally, my wife was supposed to have met me in San Diego two months ago. She was going to go house hunting. My son is at Annapolis. I keep seeing their ashen faces covered in soot and debris.”

  So that was it, Jack thought, having taken notice of Ulrich’s odd behavior and questionable decisions. I understand now, he concluded. Sub captains may be the most tested and trusted officers in the US military, but they were still human. Mostly.

  A rap at the door announced Chief Daniels. “Enter,” Ulrich responded, and then softer, “What’s up, Chief?”

  “We’ve finished the preliminary search of the base, sir. I thought you might be interested in what we’ve found, so far.”

  Nodding, the skipper said, “Of course. Please – continue.”

  “Looks like there was a massive firefight at the front gates. My team reports that the bodies are stacked waist high around the entrance. There are two Abrams tanks and a host of other disabled military police vehicles. From what my team could determine, it looks like wave after wave of civilians, police, and even the San Diego Fire Department tried to gain entry onto the base.”

  “Why?” Jack asked, unable to visualize or justify the chaos and violence.

  “I can’t be sure, sir, but my guess is the warehouses,” the senior enlisted man stated. “From what we’ve found, every square inch of storage on this base has been looted. There’s not a case of MREs or a bag of potato chips on the entire facility.”

  “Seriously?” Ulrich said, still unable to grasp what his subordinate was saying. “The local civilians took on battle tanks and armed jarheads for food?”

  “That’s how it appears to me, sir,” Daniels said. “There’s nothing else missing. We even boarded a handful of ships, including the Carl Vinson. The galley area and crew quarters had been ransacked, but nothing else was disturbed.”

  U
lrich wasn’t the only one struggling to put it all in perspective. “Why would the people turn against the Navy? Why the base’s warehouses? What made the city of San Diego turn on its favorite sons?” Cisco pondered aloud.

  Daniels shook his head, “It wasn’t just the civilians who plundered the base, sir. We found dead sailors, local cops, even a couple of California Highway Patrolmen. In some places, it looks like one group of looters was shooting it out with another. If the people were hungry enough … and a rumor went around about warehouses full of food at the Navy base, I suppose anything could happen.”

  The chief wasn’t finished. “Also, sir, we have found evidence of some pretty serious flooding, especially in the areas closest to the water. One of the warehouses down by Pier #4 still has about six inches of standing water inside. I’m guessing there was some sort of mild tsunami or other similar event in the area.”

  “That might also help explain why the Navy abandoned the base so quickly,” Jack offered. “Maybe they evacuated over fears of follow-on earthquakes or tidal events?”

  “Order the men to keep a low profile, Chief,” Ulrich snapped, his mind still focused on Daniels’ reports of looting and recent battles. “Keep them away from the fences and inform everyone to use their flashlights carefully. We don’t want to announce that the Utah is here. If desperate people think we’ve got a submarine full of beans and franks, they may want to go shopping.”

  “Aye, sir. And speaking of that desperation, I need to inform the captain that I’m getting a lot of questions from the men. They want to know what the plan is. I’ve heard a few rumblings about leaving – trying to find a way home and take care of their families. There’s no serious issue yet, but I can see a problem looming on the horizon.”

  Cisco had been dreading the time when mutiny or desertion reared its ugly head. It was inevitable. Yet, given the way he was feeling, it was all too understandable. “We’ll all be lucky not to pull a Shelby in the end,” Jack mumbled in disgust. “Everyone save one last bullet – for yourself.”