Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (21 page)

Jake stopped walking. He stood, staring at the road.

"Jake?" Lash questioned.

He gave no response for a moment, then mumbled, "It's really hopeless, isn't it."

"That's not..." Lash tried to say.

"No, really! Say we stop the Exterminators. Say we send 'em back to where ever the hell they came from. We're still screwed. They still won. Mike, you said a majority of people die in months. What about years?" Jake asked somberly.

Michael ran his hand through his hair. "Years won't be significant number-wise. For any technologically advance culture... remember that majority I mentioned? Well, for cultures suddenly separated from technology they are dependent on, we theorized the number dead in four to seven months could be... up to 90%."

The number hit everyone like a brick. Jake's sentiment became shared by everyone.

Michael continued. "For less developed cultures, they could experience far less impact. But with a non-existent international community, territorial warfare will have little to oppose it. So, to answer your question, Jake, in the best possible scenario... Years from now the few million survivors on Earth, if that, will be scattered and struggling to survive, probably attempting to relearn things previously known for centuries. Maybe a few people will get things like batteries, rudimentary machines, and basic medicine put together, but limited access to knowledge and resources will make things hardly sustainable. My guess, for whatever the hell that's worth, is that for generations, humans will merely be scavengers. And that's best case scenario. If we don't figure out how to turn off the interference signal, or stop the Exterminators..."

"Gresson, you said you have a plan. You said there's a reason for all this," Alice said.

"I..." Gresson started. He stared off into the horizon.

"Gresson, what is our plan?" Lash demanded.

"I... I don't have a plan for all that," he said.

No plan? Was there a purpose to all this? The dark hopelessness set in among the group in a way it had not since the blackout, exactly 3 weeks ago. They stood on I-95 for nearly twenty minutes, staring across the landscape surrounding them. The road stretched out in two separate directions, but neither way called to them anymore. None of them had ever felt quite so lost, and alone.

Lucas was the first to move. He said nothing, but walked south toward what had been their source of hope for the past three weeks.

"Come on," Adam said. "We can't just stand here." With blank stares, everyone slowly began to head south. They walked for the rest of the day in utter silence, while the world around them seemed dead. The only movement they saw came from the sun, receding behind the horizon by late afternoon. They had arrived at Brunswick and stayed the night at an abandoned house.

The next day's travel was equally detached. There was little moving the group forward, except for Lucas' persistence and the fact that they had no where else to go. Anyone walking nearby was met with blank faces and limited responses. The group drudged on the full day, but their pace far slower than it usually was. The highway exit numbers became single digits and by sunset, they had passed the final exit in Georgia. They camped along the road, just before the bridge that marked the border of Florida. That night, each member of the group took a turn keeping watch, scanning the darkness for movement, and listening to the nearby water run by.

Gresson couldn't help but feel jealous of the running stream as he sat on the side of the bridge during his shift. The water had its purpose laid before it; its own personal destiny was to simply go with the flow. He wanted so much, in this moment, to simply be pushed in a direction, right or wrong. He wanted to be able to release the responsibility of leading those who followed him and for those he would be with again tomorrow. A light breeze rolled across the river, blowing the trees on the shore. Gresson felt it pass over him. As much as he wanted nature itself to take him away, there was some small part in him that refused. He gripped the railing, not just to steady himself from the wind, but to ground his own mind to the idea that he had to define his own purpose. No one was going to do it for him, regardless of whether he wanted that or not. He would find a way to save this world, predictions, others, and reality itself be damned. He still had no plan, but for now, his purpose was to find one.

Chapter 29

Florida - August 26, 2072

"I see you brought along quite the entourage."

It was early in the group's journey for the day and they were now approaching two people, a man and a women, both wearing smiles. It was the woman who had spoken and Gresson laughed when he realized who it was.

"I suppose I'm good at making friends," he replied. He embraced them both. "It feels like it has been a long time."

"Only three weeks and three days. But the world's a little different now, isn't it?" the man said. He had tousled black hair, a frail frame, and pale skin. With his dark green eyes he scanned the group that stood behind Gresson.

"Yes, yes it is. There is a lot we... we
all
need to talk about," Gresson said.

"I'm sure," the woman said. "How about you start with why it took you so long to get back. And why you have eight people following you..." Her appearance was quite different from her companion. She was very attractive, with straight black hair, dark tan skin, and bright hazel eyes.

"I suppose introductions are in order," Gresson said. "Jordan, Marcus, this is Michael Case and his family. He was working on Project Blackout."

"We got your message right before the Arrival. Project Blackout wasn't in New York?" Jordan said. She brushed her hair behind her ear as she eyed the container in Gresson's hand.

"No, and it was being modified. The original was not intact. I have the newer model, and hopefully Michael can help us figure out the differences."

"Really? How did we miss that?" Marcus asked, frustrated.

"It was last minute to begin with. We're lucky Alex got anything," Jordan replied. It was the first time since the blackout that Gresson had heard his first name.

Marcus sighed and shook hands with Michael. "I guess we'll be working together, then. I'm sort of the tech person."

"Okay, so everyone else is...?" Jordan asked.

"I'm Alice, Michael's wife. This is Adam and Marie, our kids," Alice said, rolling forward in her chair.

Marcus noticed the bandages and said, "I take it that chair is a new addition?"

Alice nodded. "One I'll be thrilled to get rid of."

"Alright, well, this is Sean, Lucas, Jake, and Lash," Gresson said. "Everyone, this is Jordan and Marcus. If it was not obvious yet, they are from New Salvador."

"Not trying to be an ass here Alex, but... um... they are here why?" Marcus asked.

"Being an ass just comes naturally, apparently," Jordan interjected.

"Hey, I'm just..." Marcus said, attempting to defend himself.

"They are here for mutual benefit. I think the situation calls for us to finally accept some outside help," Gresson said.

"Hey, it's fine by me. Just don't know if it will fly with Adron, that's all," Marcus said, though the way he crossed his arms suggested he was uncomfortable for more personal reasons.

"Adron is not in charge..." Gresson argued.

"Okay, let's talk about this back home," Jordan said. "For now, it's good to see you, Alex. I'm glad you're back."

"Same here," Marcus concurred.

They continued to New Salvador, which was only a few hours south. They conversed among each other, giving more detailed introductions, though Marcus and Jordan said little more besides their names.

That afternoon, as they began to pass the first signs for Jacksonville, the group left the highway. A few backroads later, they arrived at the entrance of what appeared to be a small military base, partially hidden among nearby trees. It was surrounded by large, tan walls and signs warning trespassers to stay away. Derelict vehicles served as barriers the group had to navigate around to reach the sole entrance. A solid steel gate towered in front of them.

Marcus issued a short phrase to those behind the gate. It consisted of several quick, short syllables. To Michael it sounded like, "Op - Hm - We - Ree," though there seemed to be tones he did not recognize as anything from English. The password was immediately answered by the steel doors opening.

As the group stepped inside, Marcus said, "Welcome to New Salvador."

Chapter 30

International Space Station - August 26, 2072

Andre rested his head against the glass as he peered out into space, looking at the brightly lit moon, moving past at an imperceptible speed. The dark maria, scattered craters, and rising mountains of the lunar surface. They were far more peaceful to look at than the clouds on Earth, which hid unknowable horrors.

It had been almost a month since the world had gone dark, but no one aboard the station was any less rattled. Days were filled with consuming rations and wandering the bays. Most of the research the scientists had once been preoccupied with had been abandoned, only passively dealt with to pass the time for those who could set their minds to it. Andre occasionally dealt with small maintenance issues that sprung up, but most of his time was spent like it was now, staring outside, hoping for some purpose to present itself and free him from the hell that life on the station, high above the silent world, had become.

It was Jackie who interrupted his solemn survey of the moon. "Hey, Andre."

"Jackie," he replied, maintaining his gaze.

For a moment, they both sat silent, looking out at the moon and stars.

"There's something I need to show you," Jackie said.

Andre looked over and nodded, certain it was another technical issue for him to work on. He was somewhat happy to have the distraction. He pulled himself along, following Jackie through the dim lit station. To conserve power, many of the lights had been shut off.

They arrived at a storage bay and Jackie led Andre to the back wall. Against it were containers housing the many rations stored onboard. Jackie opened one of the containers and motioned for Andre to take a look. Inside lay several food packages.

"This is all that's left," she said.

Andre frowned and opened the other containers. They were all empty. His frown dissolved into a look of panic.

"How... how did we get this low?" he asked.

"I don't know. A resupply was scheduled for a week ago, so we missed that, but regardless we should have had plenty. I suppose we were low to begin with, and maybe everyone's been eating more than they're supposed to. I know I haven't been keeping track. But still..."

Andre held his head and struggled to think. "Okay... let's get everyone together. Maybe some of it was put somewhere else?"

"Where?" Jackie asked.

"I don't know, okay!" Andre yelled, his Spanish accent coloring his words. Jackie looked away, on the verge of tears. "I... I'm sorry," Andre apologized. "Let's get everyone together in bay 3 and figure this out." Jackie nodded and used the intercom to call everyone together.

Within minutes, everyone had gathered in bay 3, anxious to hear what Jackie and Andre had to say. After explaining that rations were missing, Jackie asked if anyone had moved any. After receiving no answers, Jackie asked, "So what do we do?" The room was silent. The rations would last for another two weeks. While some of the scientists were certain the food could be stretched to last at least a month, they all were now left to face the question of their mortality on this station far sooner than expected.

"How far can we take the pod?" one of the scientists asked.

"Theoretically, it could pull off a return home for two of us," Vadim answered. They were talking about the station's limited transport pod, designed as a ferry for use between the station and shuttles. It's secondary use was for evacuation, though emergency plans usually assumed there would be people Earth-side, ready to pick them up.

"It's a stupid question, but could it come back? Say if you could find a launch pad and... and found fuel... and I'm already seeing how ridiculous that would be," another scientist said.

Vadim thought for a moment. "In truth, it doesn't need a launch pad. It can do multiple landings and launches, but thats always been for when it's in space. I can't imagine it could escape the Earth's gravity. It's use in evacuations is only for truly worst case scenarios, not for coming back."

"It might be worth a try, though," Jackie said.

"No. If we're going to use it, let's just get two of us home. No need risking getting us all killed. Besides, who knows what's down there. It probably won't be easy to get enough food to bring back," a scientist said.

"Which is why we shouldn't even bother. Those aliens..."

"We don't know that's what we saw."

"Yes we do! Either way, earth's become a hell hole. Think about it. All technology wiped out? Major cities destroyed?"

"Then what do you propose?"

"I don't know, but we shouldn't throw our lives away."

"Our lives are already over if we stay here!"

"Wait. I have an idea," Andre said. All eyes turned to him. "The moon. The mining facility we've been able to contact must have plenty of food. Those technicians have shifts that last years."

"And the facility has space for tons of food," Jackie said. "Vadim, could the pod get to the
moon
and back?"

Vadim thought for a moment. "It's a hell of a distance. And it would have to escape its gravity on the way back. But if they can provide fuel for the return trip..." He shrugged.

"Call them," Jackie ordered.

Part Three

“A New Home”

Chapter 31

New Salvador - August 26, 2072

New Salvador's interior matched its barren, military exterior. Several small cement buildings surrounded a large central building. None were more than a single story tall, except for a large tower on the far side of the complex. Between the structures were nearly a hundred people, most of them noticeably tall, walking in various directions or gathered in several areas outside. Besides the buildings, New Salvador held benches, tables, tents, a fountain, a dirt courtyard, and several scattered mounds containing unknown materials draped in plastic tarp. There was even a well. The eight who had never entered New Salvador before were stunned to find such a large community. Gresson's mentions of a "group" had given them the impression of a small organization, perhaps thirty-some people at the most. The fact that so many people were gathered for the purpose of stopping the Exterminators was a mild comfort to them as they began to walk into the base. At least, that was their first thought. A closer look revealed that this community was something more. Children were among the crowd, games were being played, and, altogether, it appeared as though New Salvador was more of a shelter than a base of operations.