IN: Good thinking, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. Help will be on the way shortly. Both units are mounting up and will be heading towards your location.
PM: When can we expect these support troops? I think we are safe, but there are a lot of other people out there.
IN: It looks like (long pause) one unit will get to you within eight hours. They are light arms, mostly, so will probably wait to engage until the second unit gets to you. They have some heavy armour and should arrive at your location in approximately twelve hours.
Theodore skimmed the rest of the transcript.
I sure hope they get there in time and save those people.
He sighed. There was no use dwelling on things he had no control over. He read the rest of the reports quickly and efficiently. It felt like taking body blow after body blow, though. Every message was some emergency. Most were really nothing more than panicked cries for help.
But neither Theodore nor his people could do much at all. They could assist in communications, relaying messages back and forth. But he certainly had no army down here in the bunker. Theodore stacked all the reports together and held them in his hands for a second.
These are people’s lives... God save them.
He put the reports down. Neatly, on the stack of all the other reports he had read. He had always been a creature of habit, and a man who lived by the book. And that meant he would read every report that landed on his desk. He owed them that much, at least.
Well, that’s fine and all — but what are you going to do? You barely have enough folks here to keep things operational.
That reminded Theodore of the report he had been about to read before these were dropped on his desk. The old man fumbled with the coffee cup, which stood beside the report in question.
He took a sip of the black liquid.
Damn. Cold.
Theodore looked up at his door for a second, as if expecting Winston to leap through with a fresh cup. The door stayed shut.
Guess the kid doesn’t have a sixth sense after all. He thought about calling Winston for a new cup of coffee but decided against it. Damn, Theo. You’re going to hurt the kid’s feelings. Just drink the damn coffee cold, then.
Theodore took a sip. The bitterness rushing down the back of his tongue was not altogether unpleasant. He took another sip and put the cup down carefully. He reached for the single sheet of paper he had intended to read first this morning.
The title read “Olympus Daily Headcount and Status Report.”
Theodore felt that “Olympus” was a bit pretentious. But then again, that’s the government for you.
Olympus was the code name given to the ultra top-secret bunker complex hidden deep in the hills of West Virginia. Chosen for its proximity to Washington and a whole bunch of other reasons, all outdated. But it was best not to let a forty-billion-dollar, twelve-year building project go to waste.
The complex could hermetically seal itself from the outside world. It had power, air- and water-producing facilities and even an underground farm. State-of-the-art defensive measures were in place in and out of the bunker, which was capable of withstanding the biggest bombs mankind could throw at it. The facility could sustain itself and a population of fifteen hundred indefinitely.
Or so the brochure read.
In truth, this was yet another government project built by the lowest bidder. To say that corners had been cut would be an understatement. The place was practically useless. The farm suffered the same fate as most farms aboveground, thanks to that good old GMO. The power generator was hanging in there, but the fresh oxygen generator was unreliable, and the water-production facilities had crapped out already. The security measures were completely unnecessary as not a single soul, dead or alive, had walked up to the bunker. And the fifteen hundred had actually been just over seven hundred.
And were now fifty-eight.
Fifty-eight living souls were not enough to keep a country running. Even a country this decimated. The only positive news was that it looked like most of the fifty-eight would survive. The number of people succumbing to the Syndrome had dropped every day. Yesterday, they had lost just one person.
Maybe the rest of us are immune. Why the hell am I immune? Me. The one who should have died weeks ago... Ah, stop it Theo. Enough of your pity party.
Theodore skimmed the rollcall. He continued to be surprised that the radio team should be mostly intact. Only two out of the ten-man team had succumbed to the Syndrome. Theodore wondered if radio waves had something to do with it, but he was no scientist.
There’s got to be something in that, though. Theodore made a mental note to visit the team as soon as he could today. Maybe he would ask one or two of the smarter people to come along.
He went down there every day anyway, as they were a vital link to the outside world. Not that much chatter came in anymore.
There was one person out there in particular that he would like to hear from.
Are you still out there, Bill?
He reached for the coffee cup once more. The general forced another sip of the cold brew down and returned his attention to the report.
He checked the list, noting in passing that Senator Williams and his cronies were still alive and accounted for. He shook his head, chastising himself for his dark thoughts.
The rest of the list was a completely random mix of folks. There was just no way to make the connection.
How did these people live, while millions died?
Theodore’s thoughts turned inwards once more.
