with the same
result. Dejected, he tossed the phone to the tarp in front of him and sat back.
“Mind
if I give it a try?” Brad asked.
“Have
at it Brad, what’s mine is yours,” Sean replied.
Brad
picked up the phone, dialed his family’s number in Michigan, and pressed send.
The phone dialed, connected, and began to ring on the other end. They all held
their breath when a voice answered and Brad began to speak, but he was
interrupted by an automated message:
This
is the Emergency Broadcast System. The broadcasters in your area, in voluntary
cooperation with the FCC and other authorities, have activated the emergency
broadcast system. This system is to keep you informed in the event of an
emergency. This is not a test, repeat, this is not a test. This is an actual
emergency. Martial law has been declared in the greater territories of the
United States. A 24-hour curfew has been put into effect. Based on the
answering parties’ area code you have been assigned to evacuation zone … Blue
30. Your rally point is the intersection of … Interstate 28 and US 41. Do not,
repeat, do not attempt evacuation unless you are in immediate danger.
Evacuation rally points will only be manned between the hours of noon and 2
p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Local law enforcement suggests rationing of food
and water. Strongly encourage the avoidance of all non-family members. Do not
leave your home unless you are attempting evacuation. Food drops will be made
as soon as possible. Lethal force is authorized in defense of your dwelling or
family members; local law enforcement cannot respond to calls for assistance.
Tune to … AM channel 1500 for news and updates.
As
soon as the message finished, the call disconnected. Brad dialed the number
again and intently listened to the broadcast a second time. He sat in silence
for several minutes and listened to the primals outside milling about, banging
into the sides of the building and occasionally letting loose with a moan. The
sun had completely set now and there was no light coming in from the cracks in
the steel roof. “What do you think, Sean?” Brad asked softly.
“I
don’t know. I mean, we went over the training scenarios before, you know for a
U.S. invasion, but we never trained for anything like this. I would expect the
martial law order, having people go into lock down; maybe it’s a good thing,
bro? Keeps people off the streets, maybe limits infection and the spread. Let’s
just keep hoping for the best till we hear otherwise, OK?” Sean answered.
“You
know what, I have a number I want to try,” Brooks said, reaching for the phone.
He punched in a long number from memory … the phone connected and dialed. After
a moment they heard an answering machine.
“ You
have reached the coordinated voicemail message box; please leave your message
after the beep.”
“This
is Team Member four zero two zero, team sierra oscar one, authentication number
three six nine victor two seven, mission code zulu zulu.” Brooks finished
speaking into the phone and ended the call.
“What
was that Brooks? Mind filling me in?” Sean queried.
“Hmm
… yeah … from another life; several years ago working with the agency in the
Balkans they gave me that drop number. We used to call in our stats four times
a day, some things just stick in your memory, ya know,” Brooks replied.
“And
mission code zulu zulu?” Sean asked.
“Yeah,
that means we are fucked, mission compromised, request immediate extraction.
Hopefully they still monitor the box. I was told that it’s processed by a team
at Langley.”
“Well,
good thinking either way. Let’s try to get some sleep while those things wander
around out there, I’m sure we’ll have another long day of waiting tomorrow.”
8.
It
was a long night; none of the men got much sleep. All through the evening they
would be startled awake by a loud bang or the screeching of metal. Primals
crashed against the steel walls and
result. Dejected, he tossed the phone to the tarp in front of him and sat back.
“Mind
if I give it a try?” Brad asked.
“Have
at it Brad, what’s mine is yours,” Sean replied.
Brad
picked up the phone, dialed his family’s number in Michigan, and pressed send.
The phone dialed, connected, and began to ring on the other end. They all held
their breath when a voice answered and Brad began to speak, but he was
interrupted by an automated message:
This
is the Emergency Broadcast System. The broadcasters in your area, in voluntary
cooperation with the FCC and other authorities, have activated the emergency
broadcast system. This system is to keep you informed in the event of an
emergency. This is not a test, repeat, this is not a test. This is an actual
emergency. Martial law has been declared in the greater territories of the
United States. A 24-hour curfew has been put into effect. Based on the
answering parties’ area code you have been assigned to evacuation zone … Blue
30. Your rally point is the intersection of … Interstate 28 and US 41. Do not,
repeat, do not attempt evacuation unless you are in immediate danger.
Evacuation rally points will only be manned between the hours of noon and 2
p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Local law enforcement suggests rationing of food
and water. Strongly encourage the avoidance of all non-family members. Do not
leave your home unless you are attempting evacuation. Food drops will be made
as soon as possible. Lethal force is authorized in defense of your dwelling or
family members; local law enforcement cannot respond to calls for assistance.
Tune to … AM channel 1500 for news and updates.
As
soon as the message finished, the call disconnected. Brad dialed the number
again and intently listened to the broadcast a second time. He sat in silence
for several minutes and listened to the primals outside milling about, banging
into the sides of the building and occasionally letting loose with a moan. The
sun had completely set now and there was no light coming in from the cracks in
the steel roof. “What do you think, Sean?” Brad asked softly.
“I
don’t know. I mean, we went over the training scenarios before, you know for a
U.S. invasion, but we never trained for anything like this. I would expect the
martial law order, having people go into lock down; maybe it’s a good thing,
bro? Keeps people off the streets, maybe limits infection and the spread. Let’s
just keep hoping for the best till we hear otherwise, OK?” Sean answered.
“You
know what, I have a number I want to try,” Brooks said, reaching for the phone.
He punched in a long number from memory … the phone connected and dialed. After
a moment they heard an answering machine.
“ You
have reached the coordinated voicemail message box; please leave your message
after the beep.”
“This
is Team Member four zero two zero, team sierra oscar one, authentication number
three six nine victor two seven, mission code zulu zulu.” Brooks finished
speaking into the phone and ended the call.
“What
was that Brooks? Mind filling me in?” Sean queried.
“Hmm
… yeah … from another life; several years ago working with the agency in the
Balkans they gave me that drop number. We used to call in our stats four times
a day, some things just stick in your memory, ya know,” Brooks replied.
“And
mission code zulu zulu?” Sean asked.
“Yeah,
that means we are fucked, mission compromised, request immediate extraction.
Hopefully they still monitor the box. I was told that it’s processed by a team
at Langley.”
“Well,
good thinking either way. Let’s try to get some sleep while those things wander
around out there, I’m sure we’ll have another long day of waiting tomorrow.”
8.
It
was a long night; none of the men got much sleep. All through the evening they
would be startled awake by a loud bang or the screeching of metal. Primals
crashed against the steel walls and
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