TLA-Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first part of the journey was great. It had been years since Charlie has been aloft over his valley. In the distance he saw the clear blue mountain lake where he had taken his grandkids fishing some years ago. They would be in their teens right now if they had survived.

With the sun at his back Charlie ascended to 9800 feet. He estimated that would get him over the mountains below with a thousand feet or so to spare. As Charlie moved northeast at a steady 25 – 40 miles per hour he saw no visible signs of life other than the occasional mule deer or flock of birds. They were all heading West which suggested his calculations about the change in the earth’s attitude were correct.

His first stop was after 3 days. He saw a flat prairie at the end of the mountains. He gradually descended beside a stream and set down the balloon in a soft sunny spot. By his best estimate he had made it about 400 miles and was somewhere in eastern Alberta or western Saskatchewan. He had not seen any evidence of life, human life that is, except for an occasional car along the side of the road. Sometimes with the doors still open, contents aside roughly strewn in a trail across the road.

What had those first few months been like for the survivors he wondered? He shuddered to think of the chaos that must have ensued as societies and governments broke down. Scarcity, he knew, would soon turn each surviving human into an animal operating on a very basic level. Virtue, law, and order would quickly be replaced by the law of the jungle where only the strong, the lucky and very smart could survive. Utter ruthlessness, something he knew personally from his days in the war, would also be required in order to survive.

It looked like despite all of their meticulous planning that Canada had ceased to exist. It is likely that after the initial salvo of nukes that Ottawa and all of the Canadian major cities had been destroyed. Despite their attempts to stay neutral in the crisis that had engulfed the planet they had been made targets anyway, or so it seemed. On occasion during the rest of his trip northeast Charlie saw charred spots in the distance with roads leading to them. How long had it taken for mankind to be wiped out he wondered? The first winter probably got most of them, then; starvation, sickness and disease probably finished the rest off.

“I reckon the ones who were at ground zero were the lucky ones,” he thought.  At the end of the first week he arrived without incident on the edge of what he thought was the Atlantic Ocean. He descended as usual and landed right next to the sea. To the south he could see a narrow strip of islands about 50 or so miles off. As he looked along the edge of the sea he could see he was on an island too it seemed.

There were trees everywhere. He could smell the deep forest smell of pine trees just feet from the shoreline. He landed softly and secured the balloon to a large rock and decided to stretch his legs a bit. He had been in the air for six days. Living in the cool, cramped quarters of the gondola hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought. He kept a daily log of thoughts and observations as well as daily calculations of distance, altitude, water and food consumption. The poles had indeed shifted as some fringe scientists had predicted would happen someday. Through celestial navigation he was able to find his way and track his course somewhat accurately.

The trees formed a perfect fence to the northeast going as far as he could see. He was walking with his back to the setting sun. “Maybe tonight I’ll sleep on the ground,” he thought. The weather was agreeable. He walked about a mile until he saw some kind of metal structure sticking out of the water going into the trees. He decided to make for it and then to camp for the night.

As he got closer he recognized the structure as a ski lift. This wasn’t an island two years ago it was a mountain ski resort. But when and where had the sea come from? The forces involved here were awesome. Like the end of the ice age when walls of water 500 to 1000 feet high had carved canyons out of the earth leaving behind great canyons in the northwestern United States. This last “change” had occurred quickly-only two years- to cover most of the Adirondacks. The ski resort was one he knew. It was along the Vermont/ New York border-about 50 miles or so south of Montreal. He should be able to see the St. Lawrence River from here and the Thousand Islands. But fate had buried them below at least 500 feet of water, maybe more.

As he crested the hill behind the ski lift he could see other small islands to the south and east. After that, nothing but an endless Atlantic ocean that had swallowed up the entire American Eastern Seaboard. Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington were all under at least five hundred feet of ocean.

This realization gave Charlie pause to reflect. His craft was designed to take him for two or three weeks at a time. Now it would require at least a month to reach Africa. “It’s possible,” he thought, “that even the mountains in Morocco might not be enough to rise above the new massive ocean- The Atlantic.”

He decided to rest for a few days and to hunt around for any clues or provisions that might make his trip easier. He found a small road on top of the ridge that led upward through the trees.

He walked for miles uphill. Up at the top was a flat piece of land and a fenced-in U.S. government facility. The sign on the gate said, “NO TRESPASSING-USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED.” Charlie chuckled as he walked through the open gate. Obviously whoever had been posted here had departed in a hurry. He looked at the rusty fence and gate. Off in the distance he could see radar domes and other satellite dishes.

As he walked past the gate he looked through the open door of the guard shack to the right. There was a newspaper on the table – it was the New York Times. He sat down in the chair looked at the front page. Banner headline read “Middle East Peace Achieved.” President secures peace deal between Iran and Israel, Syria and Saudi Arabia with discussion of new economic community.”

US Treasury Default Causing Chaos in World Economic Markets, EU and Chinese Government demands land concessions by US and EU

IMF Collapses

New tensions between Russia and China increasing due to border dispute.

Next –Forty-Niners are back-they ride on young quarterback’s arm to 14-2 record and first seed in NFC playoffs.

“Nothing here about the disaster,” he thought. The paper was dated December 25^th- Christmas Day. Looking around he saw a few M4 rifles locked in a gun rack. He opened the middle drawer of the grey military desk and found the key.

Charlie thought the guns might come in handy if he needed to fight or trade for anything but decided against taking them assuming the additional weight wouldn’t be worth the effort.  It was likely that where he was going they would just have AK 47’s and 7.62 rounds so he left them. “Can’t carry enough ammo to make these worth the trouble,” he thought.

He did find a backpack, one of those that held water in a plastic pouch and some MRES (Meal Ready to Eat). He looked up at the wall and saw a poster that read, “AIM HIGH.” Charlie shook his head and said, “Yep they aimed high alright. High enough to take out our early warning system it seems.” He left the guard shack and the path led to the large two-story building to the rear of the compound. It had two large dishes on the roof and a big box which obviously housed more communications equipment.

He approached the building and noticed one of the vehicles in front had its door open. As he moved closer he could see there was a figure summed over the wheel. It was a skeleton in uniform. Nothing but bones left. He saw a case of water on the floor of the passenger side of the vehicle. He moved to the other side and saw the skeleton was holding a pistol and there was a large hole in the side of its head.

“Things must have been pretty bad to come to this,” he thought. Then he remembered the moment he had held his own pistol and contemplated oblivion.

Charlie spotted a shovel as he was walking towards the truck. He took a few minutes, dug a shallow grave and laid the skeleton to rest. He grabbed a two by four from a woodpile nearby and wrote a grave marker using a “Sharpie” pen he had found in the pocket of the dead airman.

SSGT. USAF

James A. Johnson Never left his post.

He stuck it in the ground and waked towards the big building.

“Ain’t that some shit?” He said aloud to himself. The young man took his own life on his 20^th birthday but he never abandoned his post.” Charlie thought about it and speculated he was the team leader and let his troops depart. Or, perhaps he was the low man on the totem pole and they all decided to leave him behind. As he entered the building he could smell only dust and cobwebs. The air was dead and cool. There were papers strewn from end to end of the office space. “This is what was once called a cube farm.” Charlie said as if talking to a friend on a tour. He liked to talk a lot to himself. He used to talk to Willy who always appeared interested in what he had to say. He missed that old dog but he was too big to have made the trip and being a purebred he wouldn’t have stood a chance on his own so he’d have had to use one of his pistols on him. Lucky he died in his sleep he mused. “Just as well,” he said shaking his head. Charlie walked up the stairs to the radio room and found a console radio system on a table with four chairs along one wall. He picked up the phone ad remarkably there was a dial tone, “ but who to call” he wondered?

He tried all the numbers he had written down for his son and daughter. Nothing, just as he expected. He tried dialing “O”, 911, 411 and got information-an automated response. “City and state please.”

It was a woman’s voice and quite welcome after two years alone. Occasionally he would wind up his old phonograph and listen to old 78’s and 45’s he had brought with him up at the cabin. Of course it was just a machine talking to him but it was the first time he’d had a phone conversation in years. “Washington DC,” he said with a chuckle, “Name?” said the female mechanical voice. “The White House.” Charlie was laughing out loud now.

“Standby while we connect you with your party, “said the computer. Charlie listened and the phone rang. It continued to ring but nobody answered. “That’s odd,” he thought. “Especially since DC is about 500 feet underwater right about now. “Maybe, he surmised, “they have redundant circuit, to maintain contact, but there just isn’t anyone alive to answer.”

He set about calling every US Government Agency he could think of. Finally, he tried the US State Department. It connected him automatically with a recording that said normal business hours etc. After a few hundred attempts he was convinced that he was the only person with access to a working phone line. Not much use. He finally hung up the phone and began searching the room for anything useful. He found a couple of walkie/talkie radios. He turned them on and presto-they actually worked. The structure must have been hardened against electromagnetic radiation. He put them in the backpack and began to leave the room when he heard the phone ring.

It startled him at first and then he rushed to grasp the receiver nearly tripping over the chair in his haste. “Hello? This is Charlie John Wayne speaking” there was no sound in the other end except a faint echo of the words he had spoken.

“Probably just some kind of instant response system or call back mechanism,” he said in disgust. He was about to hang up the phone when someone spoke to him. “Charlie Wayne John,” the speaker said in a thick Asian accent. “You were calling us what for?”

Charlie was dumbstruck. Someone had actually spoken to him. From where? And how? “Yes this is Charlie John Wayne” I am at a radio post somewhere in upstate New York. Do you copy?”  There was a brief pause. Then in an ominous and dark voice, “We copy. Prepare to die Charlie you are the last American.”

Charlie hung up the phone and shuddered at the words. Obviously they were lying, but what if it were true? And why threaten him now if he was the only one? Was it a Chinese voice? Korean? Japanese? Or some other accent. He did not know. But clearly he was not the last man on earth. That much was clear.  “I guess there’s some comfort in that, at least I know somebody else is alive even if they are out to kill me.” With that he decided to make another contact. He needed information. Where else could he get it? So he turned around and prepared to use the phone again when he heard what sounded like a rocket motor over head. He ran down the stairs and out of the building to get a better look just as the rocket hit the radar dome on top of the roof. The shock of the blast knocked him down the short stairway leading out from the building. He did his best “tuck and roll” that he remembered from his military days and escaped unscathed. His ears were ringing from the explosion but he was okay. “Well Charlie they tried to get you again but didn’t. He flipped a bird to the sky and said, “Not like that you won’t you sorry bastards!”

With that he thought there might be many missiles inbound so he took off into the woods in the general direction of the balloon. It started to sink in while he ran through the woods that he had better lie low until nightfall as there could be other missiles inbound or even troops on their way to his location.

He made a hasty hiding place for the balloon but the Gondola was too heavy to move. He decided to cover it with tree branches so at least from overhead it would be shielded from any prying eyes.

Right as he was placing the last limb in place to cover the gondola he heard a sound in the distance not like the last one but more like a proper air raid. He hid behind tree and under some bushes. He looked up and saw what appeared to be some kind of drone aircraft lingering over the radio site. “Possibly getting battle damage photos,” he reasoned. Whoever had done this certainly had it in for the USA and any potential living Americans. He drifted off to sleep hiding in the bushes. Exhaustion finally took its toll on him. His last memory as he closed his eyes was that the sun was down and there was a full moon rising in the south-east sky.

After a few hours napping he awoke and quickly surveyed the area. He used the skills he had developed back in his days as a young Navy Seal during Vietnam. Now he wished he had taken at least one of those M4’s since they were right there and he had passed them by.

“Still might be a chance they are intact,” he mused. He weighed the possible risks of going back against his chances of survival against troops or a light patrol with just his trusty Colt 45’s on each hip. He decided to do a recon around to the backside of the site avoiding the road so if he made contact while approaching he could flee into the forest away from his balloon and gondola which was in plain sight near the beach.

As he reached the fenceline on the back side of the building all appeared to be clear. He slowly made his way around to the front of the building just outside the fence. Poking through the fenceline hidden in small shrubs he looked at the building and it was just a hulk of smoldering concrete and steel.

Luckily, the guard post was unaffected by the blast and Charlie quickly grabbed two of the rifles slinging them over his shoulders. He grabbed the last one, folded the stock and took the web belt handing on a rack near the window and put as many magazines as he could carry into his pack and the magazine holders “Now at least I can put up a fight if necessary,” he thought. As he scurried away he grabbed a camouflaged poncho sitting by the door. It might come in handy if he had to hide somewhere for a period. He made his way back to the balloon and took inventory of his items. One New York Times, three M4 rifles. Sixteen magazines full of 5.56 ammunition, two drum magazines of 5.56 ammunition, 200 rounds each.  1 Flashlight-maglite mini, canteen backpack with two MRE’s inside. Tonight he would eat like a king. One had spaghetti with meat sauce; dried strawberries, fudge brownie, and gum. He had filled the canteen pack with the water from the bottles in his pockets. All of this gear weighted about another hundred pounds, well within the margin of operations for the  balloon. He’d be okay he thought as long as he didn’t run into much foul weather. The canvas of the balloon got heavy when it got wet and that reduced its flying ability considerably.

 He briefly thought about the fuel cell which powered the burner for the balloon engine. It was something he had developed himself and his proudest technical invention despite the fact that nobody had ever seen it. Charlie was one heck of an engineer and he knew it. After his time in the military he had taken his GI bill and got an engineering degree. His military background and clearances had landed him a job with a top defense company right out of college. He worked for several years in aerospace and naval space projects and became familiar with fuel cells like those used on satellites and in space vehicles. In his own time he had come up with a design for a “gas less” stove which he thought would revolutionize kitchens around the world by opening nearly limitless controllable heat for only pennies per day. The suits and pogues at work wouldn’t even look at his prototype.

 Initially his work in the defense industry had been rewarding and challenging. Things changed as the Cold War came to an end.  The scramble to save Congressional funding turned a once proud industry into a shameful boondoggle on the American taxpayer.  Every chance he got he tried to work on projects that would further the peaceful progress of mankind. But the commercial contracts were drying up by the late seventies and the industry began to focus on developing projects with deep pockets. The ethics of management became increasingly questionable. He began to find himself fighting with managers and bean counters over issues related to performance of projects, cost overruns and at times outright fraud. Engineers that couldn’t pass muster found their way into management through politics, nepotism, and “not rocking the boat.”  Seeing the writing on the wall he took an early retirement buyout in the late 1980’s and moved to the mountains where he had lived until just a few days ago. His workshop was where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t doing chores around the place.

Living simple suited him. He had lost his wife of 34 years during his final years with the aerospace industry. Working seventy hours per week as she died of cancer was something he had always regretted. But in the end she had been kind to him and said that even though she missed him she knew he was doing what he loved so it was okay. Saying goodbye to her was the hardest thing he had ever done and it made him determined to give it all up and go to the wilderness to try and find himself. Finally, after many years in the mountains he had, or so he had thought, and now here he was searching again. For what and where he was not entirely sure.

He shook the stroll down memory lane from his head and prepared the balloon without incident. He wanted to get up in the air quickly so the clouds would obscure him from any possible observation. As he ascended to 8,000 feet he had second thoughts about what he was doing, “are my calculations correct? Can I really reach the coast of Africa before the canopy gets too heavy to fly?" He wondered.

There were a million variables. What if a storm blows him off course?  What if the jet stream was in a different location than he had predicted? He could end up in a frozen patch of Europe somewhere or over the Arctic Ocean which was no longer ice but cold water with torrential storms. He quickly squashed those thoughts and said the best foxhole prayer he could muster. “God if you get me out of this one I promise to live good life.” What a good life was at this point had yet to be seen.