Devastation Erupts Read online

  “While you are welcome to stay on this base while damage from the recent earthquake is being contained, I fully support your attempt to return home. And, I am able to provide you with a vehicle, supplies, and equipment that will enable you to reach your home in Pennsylvania.”

  He stops talking, his words and subsequent silence hanging in the charged air. All of this help isn’t coming for free; I’m not naïve enough to believe that. Riley turns toward me, her blazing smile confirming that she thinks we’ve just struck gold. Nothing has come easy for us since our parents had died in the car accident. Why would it now?

  “Sergeant, this all sounds wonderful, and of course we want—and need—your help to get home. But why would you do all of this for us? I mean, you can’t possibly do this for everyone who shows up here—why us?”

  He stands, turning his back to us. “You’re right, Quinn,” he says. “I don’t make this offer to everyone who walks through those gates.”

  My heart races, silently praying that we can deliver whatever it is that he wants from us. Stealing a glance at Riley, she hunches her shoulders, as if to say, “I don’t know.”

  Bowen suddenly turns again, facing us. He rubs his chin as if in deep thought. After a few minutes of silence, which Riley and I don’t dare break, Bowen fluidly rolls the desk chair out again and lowers himself into it.

  Eyeing us both intently, he informs us that this conversation is confidential and asks if we can agree not to discuss it outside of these four walls. We both swear ourselves to secrecy.

  Releasing a deep exhale, words tumble out of his mouth, more than I’ve ever heard him speak in one sitting.

  Chapter 8

  The serious soldier morphs into a vulnerable man concealed beneath the uniform. He explains that the base is about to go on lockdown. Several military personnel will be sent to Wyoming to deal with an issue there.

  We launch question after question at him, unable to contain our curiosity. He’s reluctant to disclose much, but after consistent pressure, he admits that the Yellowstone Caldera is showing signs of an impending eruption. The military will converge on the surrounding areas and begin evacuation efforts, which will leave this base understaffed.

  Bowen twists the wedding band on his left hand as he explains that he lost contact with his wife a week and a half ago. They were mid-conversation when the phone disconnected. Since then, he’s dealt with one obstruction after another in trying to reach her. All with no success.

  “At this point,” he begins with a defeated tone, “leaving would be considered abandoning my post.” Rubbing his temples, he adds, “I can’t do that.”

  Riley gently asks, “Where is home for you?”

  “Towson, Maryland,” he answers, “Not too far from the Pennsylvania border.” His hazel eyes meet mine and I sense what’s coming next.

  “You think your wife is still there?” I ask. When he nods, I continue what feels like the beginning of an interrogation. “And you want us to find her?” Even if we find her, he doesn’t expect we’ll come all the way back down to Virginia with her, does he?

  “I realize this is a strange request, but I believe our paths crossed at the right time. You need to get home and I need to reach my wife. We can help each other, and we’ll all get what we want.”

  “What exactly do you need us to do?” I ask, even though it really doesn’t matter. Glancing at Riley, I know we’re both thinking the same thing—whatever it takes to get a ride home, we’ll do. It’s not like we have any other options or offers.

  “I’ll give you our home address. I just need you to go there, find her, and give her a message from me. And a phone…a satellite phone, so she can reach me.”

  “What if she isn’t there?” Riley asks, eyes narrowed. “What would we do then?”

  “If you can’t find her, you call me on the phone I’m giving you,” he explains. “If she isn’t there, she didn’t go far. You may have to ask around with the neighbors. But we’ll discuss that if it becomes necessary.”

  “And what about our friends?” I ask. Both Riley and the sergeant narrow their eyes in question.

  “You know, the people I came here with?” I glance toward Riley, reminding her, “Aidan, Jeff, Jasmine, and Chris.” She turns her head sideways, like a confused dog.

  “Aren’t they already on their way home, though?” Riley asks.

  “Well, if we hurry,” I avert my eyes to the sergeant, imploring him to understand, “we can probably catch up with them. They were going to Jasmine’s house, and Aidan gave me her last name. He thought maybe someone here at the base could look up her address.”

  I wield my most desperate puppy dog eyes at Sergeant Bowen. He rubs his forehead, closing his eyes for just a moment. Releasing his frustration in a deep exhale, he settles an intense gaze on me.

  “One day. You take one day to try and find your friends, but that’s it.” He shoots a pointer finger into the air to emphasize the order. “Then, whether you find them or not, you get on the road and head north.”

  With no other options and a growing desire to return home, my response comes easily.

  “Deal! How soon can we go?” I ask, my adrenaline spiking with each word.

  Riley’s head volleys back and forth as she silently follows the conversation.

  A slight smile curves on Bowen’s lips and his shoulders drop into a relaxed posture. Visibly pleased that negotiations are over, Sergeant Bowen rises to his feet and slides the chair back under the desk with a sharp squeal. “I’ve got duties to attend to right now,” he says confidently, starting toward the door. “Why don’t you both gather whatever items you need from the room and meet me at Intake Office 3 at thirteen hundred hours.” Raising an eyebrow, he throws me a glance, “You remember where that is, right?”

  “Yes!” Of course I do. It’s where I said goodbye to Aidan. And the others.

  “Very well. I’ll gather some supplies and we’ll have you on your way. Any questions?”

  Riley startles us both by responding. “Yes, sir, uh…what time is thirteen hundred hours exactly?” When he shakes his head in frustration, we both collapse in giggles.

  Chapter 9

  The door sweeps closed behind the sergeant, settling with a firm click as it latches closed. We contain ourselves for exactly four seconds before erupting with giddiness. Taking turns, we randomly call out thoughts. “We’re going home!” “It’s over, it’s finally over!” “We’re gonna see Aunt Robin and Snickers!”

  The mention of our family dog instantly melts the smiles from our faces. Reality sweeps through the air, choking the last lingering drops of joy.

  As far as we know, Snickers is fine and still at our Aunt Robin’s house. But he isn’t the only family member we’re separated from. Riley’s eyes glimmer with grief. The weight of our parents’ deaths crushes my soul. It’s never really gone; it just floats to the forefront of my subconscious sometimes, creeping from the mournful shadows drifting through my mind at any given time.

  Our house is an empty structure that will never again hold holiday gatherings or birthday celebrations. At least not with our parents. It’s a hollow shell of what was once a happy home.

  Forcing my mind back to the present, I grasp Riley’s hands. “Hey, let’s get ourselves ready. We should stop by the mess hall before we leave.”

  “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Let’s get outta here.”

  After a quick trip to the showers, we scour the room for any lingering belongings. We never unpacked our backpacks and nothing in the room belongs to us. We spend a few minutes tidying the room before we head out the door for, what I hope, is the last time.

  Now that we have a plan, even though I don’t know all the details yet, I can truly appreciate all this base has to offer. Several buildings, like the mess hall and the dormitory Riley and I stayed in, bear red brick exteriors. And the temporary structures—mostly trailers that function as offices—have simple, gray siding.

  But other areas, like the child
development center and the family housing blocks, are picture-perfect. You’d never know they were inside a large military base surrounded by ominous barbwire fences. Two-story houses, in varying shades of yellow, white, and red line manicured streets. Meticulously-spaced trees dot lush green lawns.

  Camouflaged soldiers pass by, some in small groups casually sharing a laugh while others move at a faster pace with a clear destination in mind.

  “Quinn?” I meet Riley’s eyes until movement draws mine down to her waist. She’s wringing her hands.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I ask. Her eyes shift past me. I follow her gaze to a rectangular, modern-looking brick building. A large awning directs visitors to the main entrance and tall block letters matching the brick label it: USAF HOSPITAL LANGLEY.

  “Well, we’re leaving,” she brushes a lock of long brown hair behind her ear, “do you think we should visit Dan to say goodbye or anything?”

  “No! He’s part of the reason you’re even here and you want to make nice and go say goodbye?” Is she serious?

  Resting a hand on my arm, she levels me with a stern glare. “Look, you don’t know everything that happened out there. Dan was going to help me get away. That is, until he got hurt.”

  Maybe she can forgive him that easily, but I can’t. And who’s to say he was even telling her the truth when he said he’d help her? I quickly decide that my argument won’t help the situation, so I take another approach.

  “Okay, I believe you.” Those four words instantly soften her glare, but her eyebrows reach for the sky in anticipation of my next words. “But I still think it’s a bad idea to visit Dan. For one, he’ll be upset when he finds out that Jim is gone. And maybe he’ll blame us. And besides that, what if he asks us about our plans, like how we’ll get back home? We can’t really say that we made a deal with Bowen. We’re not supposed to tell anyone.”

  She crosses her arms and scrunches her face, grudgingly absorbing the truth.

  “You’re right,” she says finally. “We can’t.” Without another word, we continue toward the mess hall. Just as we round the building’s corner and face the main entrance, Riley yanks me back hard, nearly dislocating my shoulder.

  “Ouch, what are—” I start.

  “Shhhhhhh!!” she hisses in my ear. “Dan. I just saw Dan!”

  Chapter 10

  We scramble all the way to the next corner, crouching behind it. Keeping watch, we whisper.

  “What was he doing?” I demand.

  “He was walking out with someone. A soldier. He was wearing regular clothes. They must have released him from the hospital.” She squints in concentration.

  “Well, at least he was leaving. Let’s just watch until he’s gone and then we can go in and eat.”

  I haven’t seen Dan since the night we stole his and Jim’s bikes. I recognize his gait immediately. A lack of confidence slows each step he takes. Although, he was just in the hospital, so maybe he’s still in pain too. His pasty pallor hints that the effort of walking is draining any reserve energy he may have had. I wonder if he should really be at the mess hall instead of reclined in a hospital bed hovering over a tray of food.

  His clothing is completely out of character—sleek black pants and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. Must have been issued to him before he was discharged from the hospital.

  The soldier accompanying Dan escorts him away from the mess hall, probably to an office or dorm room. Dan’s shoulders slump and, for a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. Just as he’s well enough to leave the hospital, he discovers the only family he’s got left is gone.

  If he wasn’t partially responsible for taking Riley away from me, I just might feel enough sympathy to help him right now.

  When they’re safely out of sight, we rush inside the mess hall. Gulping down a quick lunch, we dash back outside and slink through the streets to the intake office. We earn ourselves a few suspicious looks along the way, but no one stops us.

  Rushing around pays off. We arrive fifteen minutes early for our meeting with the sergeant. His stunned expression bears a hint of impressed amusement.

  “Nice to see you two so punctual,” he says, a genuine smile lighting his face.

  “Well, we figured we owed you from this morning,” I say, continuing the goodwill.

  “That you did, young lady. That you did,” he nods, an appreciative smile reaching his cheeks. I’ve never seen him this relaxed. He must be excited to finally have a plan to reach his wife.

  He directs us to a familiar cluttered desk in the corner. As he steps around and sinks into the worn chair, he motions for us to sit in the folding chairs directly across from him. A twinge of nostalgia warms me. The last time I was sitting here, it was with the gang: Aidan, Jeff, Jasmine, and Chris. If they only knew how close I am to seeing them again. Well, honestly Jasmine would probably roll her eyes, but the guys would be happy about it.

  Leaning back in his chair, Sergeant Bowen rubs his eyes. Tenting his hands, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and levels us with a serious expression.

  “Remember, the information I share with you stays here,” he motions a pointer finger back and forth between him and us. We both nod quickly. We want this to work out as much as he does.

  Satisfied, he swivels the desk chair to the drawer opposite where we sit. He pulls out a soft black pouch about the size of my makeup bag. Slowly unzipping it, he reveals what looks like a half walkie-talkie, half cell phone. A stubby antenna sits atop its thick black body.

  “This is a satellite phone,” he explains. “It doesn’t rely on cell networks, so it will still work even if networks are down.” Thrusting it toward us, he explains how to dial out and how to accept calls. Then he makes us both repeat the instructions back to him. Once he’s satisfied that we understand how it works, he moves on to our next lesson.

  Swiveling toward the black computer monitor, he taps the keyboard a few times, prompting the printer to awaken and spit out two pages. Rolling his chair toward the other end of the desk, he retrieves the papers and thrusts them toward us.

  “This is your friend Jasmine’s address,” he says. “Remember, you take one day to get there, let them know you’re okay, and then head north.” We nod in unison.

  “I realize that your friends may no longer be there. And I also realize that teenagers sometimes let their hormones influence their decisions.” His eyebrows arch in anticipation of a response. I swallow the two words priming to escape my lips: Okay, boomer!

  Instead, my eyes explore every inch of the floor as my cheeks radiate crimson. Thankfully, he slices through the awkward silence a moment later.

  “Now, this other paper,” he releases a deep breath. “This is a list of numbers associated with each of your friends. Think of them as identifying numbers.”

  I slide this printout closer and examine it. Just as Bowen said, each of our names is listed in alphabetical order. He even included Riley. My name is listed too, but it’s the only one without a number next to it. All of the others have a six-digit sequence of jumbled numbers and letters.

  Pushing back in my chair, I scrunch my face in confusion. “How are identification numbers supposed to help us? And why does everyone have one but me?”

  He huffs out a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What I am telling you is confidential information. As soon as you find my wife, you forget this ever happened. And you don’t tell anyone else what I’m about to tell you.” His serious eyes slide back and forth between us.

  The air around us swells with tension. Riley and I both answer stiffly, “Yes. We promise.”

  Chapter 11

  Sergeant Bowen slides a drawer open, reaches inside, and places a black device on the desk’s smooth surface. The rectangular block looks like an old Walkman, but without the little window where the cassette sits.

  Pointing at the mysterious object, the sergeant simply states, “This is a tracking device. Everyone who was immunized…” he rubs his chin as hi
s eyes focus on a memory. For just a moment, he’s no longer with us in the present. With a quick shake of his head, his attention snaps back to the conversation. “Everyone immunized was actually injected with a nano-tech tracker in a carrier serum. This machine locates the GPS tracker in the serum, treating it like a locator, and displays the GPS associated with the identification numbers. If you type in specific identification numbers, it will lead you to those individuals.”

  We stare in stunned silence, prompting him to elaborate.

  “The muscles absorb the injection,” he blows out a deep breath, as if it’s cleansing his soul to share the information. “It’s not exactly perfected yet. It wasn’t supposed to be deployed, but the earthquake made for an opportune time to pilot test it on the East Coast. Now that the West Coast is in jeopardy, I’m guessing the project will…escalate.”

  “But why?” Riley asks, her voice quivering. Without even turning toward her, I can sense tears forming. She radiates sadness and confusion. “Why would the military want to track people? Without even telling them or giving them a choice.” The last part evaporates into a whisper.

  He sighs. “Things are about to get worse.” Each word is calculated but his hazel eyes lack the conviction his steady voice attempts. “People are going to be moving around the country, some far away from their homes, and the government will need to locate population pockets.”

  What does this all mean? Things need to get better. Not worse. He rubs his forehead as if an agonizing migraine has clenched his brain like a vise.

  “Resources are going to become limited and this will allow us to manage and distribute them equally.” His shadowed eyes betray the truth. He doesn’t believe that line any more than we do.

  “So…wait,” I narrow my eyes. “Why didn’t you vaccinate me then?” The typically confident soldier crumbles for just a blink. His shoulders hunch and straighten as his composure returns.