A Year Underfoot Read online

  October 24th, 2033

  The Gods of insurgency smiled upon me today.

  Poking around in the hills near Frazier Park I stumbled upon an old hunter’s shack tucked away deep in the scrub.

  A cot, clothes, and food!

  And, when I say food, I’m talking about shelf after shelf of sealed mason jars holding dry oatmeal, beans, and rice. There are jars of cereal, jars of flour, jars of sugar, salt, pepper, and jars of coffee, – jars and jars of coffee. I repeat, I have jars of coffee. I’m still smiling.

  October 25th, 2033

  A light rain fell today, so I stayed inside, drank coffee and marveled at my newfound riches.

  That’s all.

  October 25th, 2033

  (second entry)

  I just found a tattered copy of War Of The Worlds by H.G. Wells wedged between the cot and the wall.

  The Universe has a strange sense of humor.

  October 26th, 2033

  I woke up with a raging fever yesterday morning. I tried to lay back and sleep it off, but by mid–morning my headache had only grown worse. By noon I was burning up and by mid–afternoon I had done the hot and cold shuffle with the blankets a dozen times. I was miserable, freezing in my sweat–soaked sheets and on the verge of giving back last night’s dinner the shack had so graciously provided. I was a mess, and set to get a whole lot worse.

  My temperature continued to rise and the next few hours took on a decidedly hallucinogenic bent. Sweat poured from my fevered brow, and as I lay on the cot my body shook and shivered uncontrollably, dancing to the tune of the virus as it fought to expel it just the same.

  In the midst of my delirium, I saw the little girl from the transport standing next to my cot. She was dead, her eyes were black and dull and her face had been drained of all its color, – but she was talking to me just the same.

  “You can’t let them get away with this.” She said.

  “I won’t.” I replied.

  “You have to make me a promise.” She pleaded, and as she spoke a blood red tear fell from her right eye and I watched it fall and splatter on the ground. “Do you promise?”

  I looked back up to her through bleary eyes.

  “I promise.”

  The room spun and she disappeared in a kaleidoscope of color and I found myself walking alone down a long, dark hall. I had no idea where I was, or where I was heading. Physically, I was still on the cot, but I was walking down a strange, narrowing hall just the same. I was so confused.

  When I reached the end of the hall I found myself standing in front of a large red door. I reached for the handle, but the door slowly swung open on its own. Without a second thought, I stepped into the dimly–lit room and I caught sight of the mysterious alien woman from the visions exiting a similar door on the opposite side of the strange space. I ran to catch up with her, – maybe she could make sense of this, but as I followed her through the second door I found myself falling headlong into darkness. I fell for what seemed like hours until I spotted a pinprick of light rushing up to meet me. The light grew larger as I drew closer and when I was fully encompassed by the light I awoke with a start to find that my fever had broken and I was laying back on the cot. It was soaked in sweat. I was cold and clammy and I grabbed for the covers that I’d kicked to the ground at some point during the night. I pulled them back over me and curled up into a ball, shivering for warmth and trying desperately to regain my wits about me.

  And, I was tired. So very tired.

  October 30th, 2033

  It’s like how the old saying goes, – either getting busy living, or get busy dying. I suppose that’s what it all boils down to. I can either fight back against the Threak, I mean really bring to them in a high stakes, go big, or go home kind of way, or I can curl up into a ball and die.

  Curl up into a ball and die?

  That’s not going to happen.

  What I need to do is blow up a battleship.

  The closest one is hovering over Los Angeles.

  I’m well aware it sounds overly simplistic, but that’s the gist of what needs to be done. Time is running out. Without action we won’t survive much longer. If not me, then who?

  Our numbers have been decimated. If twenty per cent of the world’s population is still alive I’d be surprised. I’m afraid the true number falls significantly below that. Someone has to bust a move before it’s too late.

  That someone might as well be me.

  The way I see it, we’ve been beaten and we’re scared, we’re cold and we’re hungry, and, worst of all, we’ve lost our faith, – true enough, but, what we haven’t lost, and I know this in my heart, is our will to survive. The will to survive burns inside me, as it still does in countless others. It’s what has kept us alive so far, and it’s what will continue to keep us alive, despite what the future may hold.

  Something has changed in me, something profound. Something I hadn’t thought of, or even could’ve imagined only a few short days ago, – I want you to live. It doesn’t matter if I make it through this alive, only that you do.

  If humanity doesn’t survive, if we go quietly in the night, the Threak win.

  And, I can’t stand losing.

  October 31st, 2033

  Happy Halloween. Welcome to the real monster show. No tickets needed here, just take a look outside your door.

  November 1st, 2033

  As hard as it was to leave, I knew I had to. I’ll be back in a couple of days and if someone else stumbles onto the cabin while I’m away, well, more power to them. I certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone for that. We all live in the moment now. Nothing lasts forever. I think that’s understood by all.

  I lit out after dark and after a few hours I spotted the rock cropping I’d used as a marker the last time I blew through the area. Interstate 5 lay on the opposite side of a slight rise a mile to the west, and less than six hours after leaving the cabin I was already nestled in the scrub overlooking the northbound slope of the interstate.

  The air base sat below at the bottom of the grade.

  Transports rolled past as they had before, but not in the same numbers. Whereas they used to roll past at a rate of one every fifteen minutes, now it’s more like one per hour.

  Why the change?

  November 3rd, 2033

  The base was popping today. More takeoff and landings than I cared to count and the transports rolled through the gates with greater frequency than they had in the past few days.

  They’re definitely gearing up for something.

  With their attention focused elsewhere, maybe the time is right for me to whip something up. What that might be I don’t know as of yet, but I’m working on it. Molotov cocktails are always an option and I still have a few pounds of C–4 left.

  While my options may be limited, I’m not complaining. I’m still standing and I’m feeling stronger everyday. I have plenty to eat and I don’t have a collar around my neck, or shackles on my wrists.

  November 3rd, 2033

  (second entry)

  I had an epiphany last night and I’m still trying to find the flaw in my reasoning.

  Hear me out–back when the Threak invaded they set off a series of EMP blasts, electromagnetic pulses, bursts of energy that fried the circuits and transistors of virtually everything electrical. In an instant, cell phones fell silent, cars stopped running and radios went dead, commercial flights dropped from the skies and military planes sat helpless on the tarmac.

  Our dependence on the silicon chip left us dead in the water.

  But, I’ve been thinking, what about tubes? Tube radios. Good old–fashioned tube radios, built before the advent of the silicon chip. Surely, those would still work.

  And, I know just where to look.

  Down south along Interstate 5, on the north end of Santa Clarita there’s a recreational vehicle storage lot. Not a dealership, but a private storage facility where the public paid a monthly fee to store their large toys, i.e., boats, trailers and recreational
vehicles. Hundreds and hundreds of RV’s lined up side by side, all years, makes and models, and, despite their differences, all have one thing in common, they’re all older than dirt. Some are even sixty to seventy years old.

  There has to be a few of those old citizens band tube radios on the lot.

  I’ll take a look in the morning.

  November 4th, 2033

  My trip down the interstate went smoothly and I am happy to report I’m the proud owner of two CB sets, – and a half dozen antennas as well. One unit appears to be in great shape, an EICO Sentinel 23, while the other, an older, larger rig is too beat up and rusted to tell what the make and model number are. I doubt if it’ll even power up, but I grabbed it just the same.

  After I’d stashed the pair in my backpack the thought struck me to find a phone book and see if there might have been any radio repair shops in the area. I found two listings that piqued my interest. One in particular stood out, a Mom & Pop electronic shop well off the beaten path on the south side of town. Primarily a cell phone retailer, the ad also noted “Radio Repair, All Makes, All Models, Tubes Welcome!”

  Bingo!

  I slipped back out into the night and headed south.

  Three hours later I was in the back of the ransacked shop, rifling through the mess when I came across an unopened cardboard box labeled, “Assorted Capacitors and Resistors”. Just the type of thing I was looking for, parts, parts and more parts.

  I opened the box and pumped my fist, not only did the small box contain dozens of the vintage resistors and capacitors as advertised, but it held a half dozen 40 watt tubes as well.

  Now I just need to figure out how all this stuff works, if it even works at all.

  November 5th, 2033

  I have a two–way radio up and running.

  It was quite simple to hook up, really. All I needed to pull together was a car battery for power and a length of coaxial cable for the antenna and I’d be in business, – as long as the unit wasn’t fried.

  I opened up and cleaned up the unit as best I could. I wired it to the battery, double checked the connections, crossed my fingers and flipped the switch.

  Yes! The face–plate lit up. And, so did I.

  I turned the selector knob and clicked through the 23 channels and was greeted with static at each turn. I went through the dial a few more times before leaving the unit set to channel 9, the traditional emergency channel, and laid back down on my cot. I listened to the static for a good hour before I switched the unit off and fell asleep.

  White noise never sounded so good.

  But, a human voice would’ve sounded so much better.

  I have the parts for another unit, but I haven’t the expertise to put one together. The only person I know who might be able to help me is Dan Wolfe. He may not know how to build it himself, but I’ll bet he knows who can. He’s got the connections to make this happen.

  I’ll have to make a trip north.

  November 7th, 2033

  It’s late in the afternoon and I’m dug in about ten miles south of Wolfe’s camp. The warbirds have been flying low and slow over the area all afternoon, and I’m afraid they know what they’re looking for. They haven’t quite zeroed in on the Wolfe’s location, but they do seem to be paying particular attention to the west side of the valley and coming closer to their camp with each passing sweep.

  November 8th, 2033

  I made my way to Dan and Maureen’s camp this morning only to find the place burned to the ground and not a soul in sight. I can only hope they had ample warning and got out in time, if not, God help them all.

  I picked through the debris for a minute, taking it all in when I heard branches snapping underfoot behind me. I whirled around, gun in hand, and leveled it at the movement in the trees.

  “Don’t shoot!” A kid’s voice cried out. I lowered my weapon and out of the woods stepped Dan Wolfe’s nine–year old son, Jimmy. He’d been crying and was trembling with fear. He looked around the campsite, and a whole new round of tears welled in his eyes.

  “Jimmy, Jimmy, it’s me, Dante, remember me?”

  He stopped and looked me in the eye, and I saw the horror in his staring back at me.

  “The aliens took my Mom and Dad.”

  “How long ago did this happen?” I said.

  “This morning, before the sun came up. They came and they took everyone.”

  I had a quick look around. There was nothing left to salvage. The camp was in ruins.

  “All right, Jimmy, here’s what we’re going to do…”

  I froze.

  Voices.

  I heard voices.

  I looked at Jimmy. He looked at me. Slowly, and without a sound, we crept behind a debris pile and ducked low. The voices grew louder and when it became apparent they were human we both were able to breathe a sigh of relief.

  Coming into the clearing were a group of men, five in all, – armed to the teeth and ready for business. The leader of the group, a thick, bald man with a full gray beard yelled out as he entered the compound.

  “Dan Wolfe!” “Maureen!”

  Jimmy rose slowly. He knew the man.

  “Mr. Ross! Mr. Ross!” He yelled, waving his arms and running toward the group.

  I rose from my spot and instantly had five weapons trained on me, but I expected as much and didn’t take offense. I raised my arms up over my head and turned around slowly, this would all be sorted out in a few seconds anyway, so there wasn’t any reason to get excited and take it personally.

  Jimmy rushed up Mr. Ross, who never took his eyes off me and listened to Jimmy as he told his tale. When he was finished, Mr. Ross nodded his head and his men lowered their weapons

  I held out my hand and Ross did the same.

  “Jimmy tells me you’re a friend of Dan’s. You’re the guy who crashed the shuttle.”

  “That would be me,” I said, shaking his hand, “Dante, Dante Mason.”

  “Well, that explains why they targeted the Wolfes”.”

  I couldn’t get angry. He had every right to drop the ball in my court, and moreover, he was probably right. I’ve been wondering if I’d brought this to Dan and Maureen’s doorstep myself.

  “They’re still alive,” I said, “But, they’ve been taken. Most likely to the air base along Interstate 5.”

  Ross looked away and signaled for his men to secure the perimeter. I looked at back down at Jimmy and he was looking back up at me. I knew, and he knew, I owed his old man and his mother big time.

  “I’m going after them.” I said.

  “What?” Ross couldn’t believe it. Jimmy smiled. I dropped to one knee and looked the freckle–faced kid straight in the eye.

  “Listen, Jimmy, I’ve been to the base. I know how to get in and I know how to get out. If your parents are in there, I’ll get them out. I promise.”

  Jimmy nodded his head, yes, and I did the same.

  “Okay”. I said.

  “Okay.” He said.

  Done deal.

  Ross had his men feed Jimmy while he and I had a good talk. I shared with him what I knew of the Threak, and he, a bit of the dried venison he had with him.

  I told him of the air base and its operation and he told me of the other camps in the area and how an underground network was developing across the western states.

  “Then you’ll need this.” I said, offering him the secondary pack I’d been carrying. At first, he looked a bit confused, but I insisted and he took hold of the sack and held it out in front of him

  “Careful.” I said. “It has glass tubes inside.”

  “Glass tubes?” Ross queried.

  “Parts for a couple of two–way radios, CB’s, – a couple dozen transistors and capacitors, and, most important of all, tubes. It’s all pre–1980’s electronics, all tube, all good. I have a working one at my camp. I was bringing these parts for Dan. I’m sure he would’ve known what to do with them.”

  Ross got it right away.

  “Trust me,
Dante, they won’t go to waste.”

  And, I knew they wouldn’t. He understood the radios were a game–changer. Communication would open up the insurgency. A new day was dawning.

  It was getting late. Shadows were growing long in the east and darkness would soon fall across the valley. We exchanged our goodbyes and I slipped back into the scrub and headed south.

  I’ll be a stone’s throw from the base by this time tomorrow.

  I have to get my friends out.

  November 9th, 2033

  I’ve been moving a little bit slower, and a little bit more deliberately now that I know the Threak are out beating the bush for me.

  I’ve been traveling by night and only for a few hours a pop at that.

  They aren’t getting me, no way, no how.

  November 10th, 2033

  I’ve no doubt the troopers are attempting to draw me into a trap, – patrolling the areas to the north, west and south of my position, while leaving me a safe eastern passage out of the woods. Gee, I wonder what’s waiting out there?

  Herding a human, are we?

  Well, not this one.

  There’s more than one way to approach the air base, but I’ll have to break out of this box first.

  November 11th, 2033

  After sunset last night I retraced my steps for about a mile and then turned due north. Picking up the pace I fell into a comfortable jog, and in the space of an hour had put almost three hard fought, underbrush hindered miles under my belt before turning east and picking up the pace.

  The terrain was rough, but passable and under the circumstances I had no choice. I had to know if the Threak were actually tracking me, or if they just assumed I was in the area. There was only one way I could think of that I knew would work for sure, and that’s the ol’ “jackrabbit boogie”.

  So, that’s what I did.

  I ran in a staggered zigzag pattern, one mile east, then one and a half miles north, one mile east, a half a mile north, two miles east, three miles south, etc…. I ran for six hours, never stopping once.

  Presently, I’m laid up in some heavy brush along side a fallen oak and the warbirds have been buzzing around all day.