machine back into the briefcase. “I’ll come back tomorrow to issue the remainder of the identification cards, and thumb scans. You will need to select five men to function as your shift supervisors who will need all of the same clearances except for the SCI. There are the folders containing the records of those who seemed best qualified for those positions,” Lucas said pointing to the stack on his desk. “Those are the rest,” he said pointing to the piles on another table. “Of course you can choose anyone you want, but I would suggest you don’t take too long because you will need help putting together a roster, assignments, and schedules right away.”
“Sounds like I’m not going to be getting much sleep anytime soon,” Keith said in a friendly manner.
“Probably not; but then again, having your days filled isn’t such a bad thing,” Lucas offered.
When they walked out of the newly designated Security Force offices, indicated by a sign above the door, they went across the corridor to a locked door requiring a thumb scan for entrance. He had Keith open it to ensure his clearance was in fact activated. When they were inside, Keith saw it was an equipment room filled with a variety of tactical supplies, everything except firearms and ammunition. “This is your equipment room. You will also need to control who gets access beyond your supervisors. I recommend you limit that.” Keith nodded in understanding. They went back out into the corridor and secured the vault like door behind them. Keith was led into an auditorium filled with men talking to each other.
“They’re all yours Chief,” Lucas said signifying what title he would be recognized by, “I’ll see you tomorrow to finish issuing the ID cards and clearances.”
“Thank you,” Keith said as Lucas walked out of the room.
He turned toward the men seated in the now quiet auditorium. He never had a command such as this, at least not one of this size or composition. It was a new outfit, with a new commander, and a new line of work. But it was his now, and everyone here would assume he would, or at least should, know what he was doing. “Hello. My name’s Bishop. I’m your new Chief…..”
****
The crews of the Texas and Nevsky continued inland on a northeasterly course. It was slow going as the terrain was difficult to navigate, and everyone seemed to be dealing with chronic fatigue. The first few days were the most challenging as the carnage among the densely populated areas along the coast was abundant. They salvaged what they could, and moved on as soon as they were able. It was not long before they became numb to the devastation surrounding them. The area ahead was a dry wasteland. The vegetation was brown, the air was dry, and the only existing sounds emanated from themselves, or the occasional feint breeze. The sky was ominous looking with its overcast skies, and dark low hanging unnatural clouds.
They eventually came to less populated areas where former villages were evident. Among these, they found survivors. They were even more despondent and detached. They came along willingly, and offered no resistance to instructions, the majority of them speaking only Spanish. They tried to comfort one another as they went, but that soon became nothing more than hollow words.
In time, their ranks grew to more than twenty-five hundred men, women, and children. Everyone carried, or assisted in pulling, much needed supplies on their makeshift wagons. It was in the last town they came upon when they found several students, and teachers, from a once popular university. It was from them that Weston, and his crew, learned about what had taken place. They knew now that their decision to leave their vessel and turn inland was the right one. It also explained the physical effects people were experiencing.
Seventy-two days after leaving the Texas, and not nearly as far along as they thought they should be, they came upon a scenic valley. The opening
“Sounds like I’m not going to be getting much sleep anytime soon,” Keith said in a friendly manner.
“Probably not; but then again, having your days filled isn’t such a bad thing,” Lucas offered.
When they walked out of the newly designated Security Force offices, indicated by a sign above the door, they went across the corridor to a locked door requiring a thumb scan for entrance. He had Keith open it to ensure his clearance was in fact activated. When they were inside, Keith saw it was an equipment room filled with a variety of tactical supplies, everything except firearms and ammunition. “This is your equipment room. You will also need to control who gets access beyond your supervisors. I recommend you limit that.” Keith nodded in understanding. They went back out into the corridor and secured the vault like door behind them. Keith was led into an auditorium filled with men talking to each other.
“They’re all yours Chief,” Lucas said signifying what title he would be recognized by, “I’ll see you tomorrow to finish issuing the ID cards and clearances.”
“Thank you,” Keith said as Lucas walked out of the room.
He turned toward the men seated in the now quiet auditorium. He never had a command such as this, at least not one of this size or composition. It was a new outfit, with a new commander, and a new line of work. But it was his now, and everyone here would assume he would, or at least should, know what he was doing. “Hello. My name’s Bishop. I’m your new Chief…..”
****
The crews of the Texas and Nevsky continued inland on a northeasterly course. It was slow going as the terrain was difficult to navigate, and everyone seemed to be dealing with chronic fatigue. The first few days were the most challenging as the carnage among the densely populated areas along the coast was abundant. They salvaged what they could, and moved on as soon as they were able. It was not long before they became numb to the devastation surrounding them. The area ahead was a dry wasteland. The vegetation was brown, the air was dry, and the only existing sounds emanated from themselves, or the occasional feint breeze. The sky was ominous looking with its overcast skies, and dark low hanging unnatural clouds.
They eventually came to less populated areas where former villages were evident. Among these, they found survivors. They were even more despondent and detached. They came along willingly, and offered no resistance to instructions, the majority of them speaking only Spanish. They tried to comfort one another as they went, but that soon became nothing more than hollow words.
In time, their ranks grew to more than twenty-five hundred men, women, and children. Everyone carried, or assisted in pulling, much needed supplies on their makeshift wagons. It was in the last town they came upon when they found several students, and teachers, from a once popular university. It was from them that Weston, and his crew, learned about what had taken place. They knew now that their decision to leave their vessel and turn inland was the right one. It also explained the physical effects people were experiencing.
Seventy-two days after leaving the Texas, and not nearly as far along as they thought they should be, they came upon a scenic valley. The opening
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