Authors: Bobby Akart
Chapter 3
Thursday, September 8, 2016
6:13 a.m.
100 Beacon
Boston, Massachusetts
Intuitively, Sarge sensed it first. He felt it coming. Inexplicably, Sarge knew it would be devastating. In the relative quiet of Cambridge across the Charles River, a hissing sound filled the air. A gaggle of Canadian geese, which had been resting on the muddy bank of the river, suddenly took flight. Sarge brought his AR-15 to low ready as the first explosions shook the building.
A geyser of hot steam broke through Amherst Street, which traversed east to west through the heart of MIT. A shower of mud and flying debris rose into the dark sky until it was eye level to Sarge. The cloud of steam continued skyward and then a second explosion occurred to the east. Sarge ducked and then ran past the hot tub towards the cloud undulating into the morning sun.
The height and breadth of this explosion obliterated his view of Mass General, which was less than a mile away. The entire complex was engulfed in smoke. Drivers, apparently startled by the events, hit each other on Storrow and careened down an embankment towards The Esplanade.
Another explosion occurred across the river near the Charles River Dam. As 100 Beacon shook from the blast, Sarge ducked again and looked towards the sky.
Are we being bombed?
Then another violent eruption shook the ground. This time, a large crater formed at the base of the Longfellow Bridge connecting Cambridge to downtown Boston. A towering cloud of swirling steam rose into the sky for nearly four hundred feet.
Car alarms were sounding all around. Then another explosion came from the downtown area. Steam rose into the sky, taller than the newly completed Millennium Tower, which stood seven hundred feet above ground. For a brief moment, the rising sun was obscured by the debris, and then the winds created gaps allowing the light to shine through.
Sarge was mesmerized. It reminded him of a scene from the
Apocalypse Now
movie. The sound of collapsing concrete and steel snapped him out of his trance as he looked back towards Cambridge. Another blast widened the crater at the Longfellow Bridge. The structure had been compromised, and the central span of the bridge was giving way.
Panicked, some drivers were attempting to back off the bridge, but the steam swallowed them from view. Others frantically turned back towards the billowing steam that surrounded Mass General. Suddenly, the bridge gave way as the structure and deck of a two-hundred-foot span of Longfellow Bridge collapsed into the Charles River. At least a dozen cars sank to the bottom, only the red illuminated taillights indicating their path to the murky depths below.
A vehicle on the south side of the bridge caught fire. A pickup pulling a trailer rested precariously against the guardrail of the collapsed structure, near the burning car. Sarge could hear the screams of motorists on the bridge, attempting to escape the collapse.
“What the fuck, Sarge?” screamed Steven as he ran onto the rooftop with Julia and Katie close behind. The sun was rising and their view of the carnage was getting better.
“Are you okay, Sarge?” asked Julia as she reached Sarge’s side. The four of them looked from Boston to the east across the Charles to Cambridge in the west. The sky was dense with steam, silt, and flying debris. Longfellow Bridge continued to creak as it struggled to stand.
“I’ve counted at least a dozen explosions,” said Sarge. “Look at the steam rising out of the ground.” Sarge directed their attention to the massive craters left by the escaping steam and debris. Another vehicle crash distracted them momentarily.
“Were we bombed?” asked Julia. She was trembling as she hung on to Sarge’s arm. She was badly shaken by this, or the culmination of the entire situation.
“No,” replied Sarge. “I saw it. I mean, I felt it coming.” Sarge looked at the ground, looking for the right words.
“What do you mean, bro?” asked Steven.
“I mean, I could tell something was about to happen, and then the ground began to erupt,” said Sarge. He loosened his grip on his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He turned his attention to Julia and gave her a reassuring look. “Something happened underground. It looks like a bad day at Yellowstone Park.”
Moisture and debris began to fall on them from the north as the winds picked up. Steven shielded his eyes and looked around.
“Maybe we should get inside,” said Steven. “I don’t know what this stuff is, but it could be toxic.” The four of them turned toward the stairwell when one final massive blast knocked them to the roof deck. The sound was deafening. Katie and Julia screamed as the guys scrambled to cover them.
In Cambridge, the Kendall Cogeneration Station, the latest-and-greatest innovation in green-energy production, disintegrated and took three city blocks with it. Lights out, for a long time.
Chapter 4
Thursday, September 8, 2016
8:42 a.m.
100 Beacon
Boston, Massachusetts
Julia stood at the window and watched as the clouds of debris began to dissipate. For over two hours, their views of Boston and Cambridge were obstructed. The reinforced windows Sarge had installed during the initial renovation of 100 Beacon withstood the blast, but the residents of the lower floors were not so fortunate. Virtually all of the windows on the east and north sides of the surrounding buildings were shattered, throwing bits and pieces of plate glass to the sidewalk below.
A pipeline explosion like this had happened before. In the summer of 2007, an underground steam pipe exploded during the evening rush hour at the Grand Central Terminal. Steam, mud, and pieces of concrete were hurled forty stories into the Manhattan sky. Dozens of people were injured during the blast, primarily from the panic at the busy intersection. The carnage Julia was observing was much worse. There were immense craters spewing steam in every direction of the city.
She tried not to be overwhelmed, but despair did cross her mind from time to time. She was safe, and they’d sufficiently prepared for a collapse event just like this one. But Julia wrestled with her concern for others. People aimlessly walked along the sidewalk, appearing lost and disoriented. Not only had they lost the lives they were accustomed to, but now their homes were destroyed.
Haven’t people suffered enough?
Katie joined her and stood silently for a moment, taking it all in. Finally, Julia spoke.
“This is unimaginable, Katie. Look at these buildings. This is not Ukraine or some city in the Middle East. This is our home, Boston. It looks like it’s been bombed.” Julia pressed her palms against the window, unconsciously trying to reach out.
“I know, Julia,” said Katie. “We’re very lucky.” Katie put her hand on Julia’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.
“It’s not that we’re lucky, Katie. We knew our country faced threats, and we prepared accordingly. But no one could have expected
this
.” Julia drew a line across the glass with her index finger, tracing the destruction from Cambridge to the north all the way to downtown Boston, where steam still billowed skyward. “We have to do something.”
The stairwell door slammed, and Julia heard the guys’ voices as they approached. She couldn’t hide her emotions and a few tears streamed down her face. As Sarge and Steven approached, in an attempt to stay strong, she tried to cover her face.
Sarge knew her too well, however. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Julia tried, but couldn’t contain her feelings any longer. She broke down crying. “Sarge, we have to do something for them.” She sniffled out the words, waving her arm towards the windows. “They didn’t deserve this. Is it fair for us to hide up here in our
fortified penthouses
while so many innocent people are suffering out there?” Julia couldn’t hide her sarcasm.
Steven started to speak, but Katie grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Sarge took Julia in his arms and held her until she recovered. Julia had held it together during these first six days. The fast pace in which events occurred and the large amount of activity at 100 Beacon had kept her from focusing on the reality.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” said Sarge, breaking the tension. “This is a conversation that is overdue. But now that Steven and Katie are safe with us, let’s talk. Okay?”
Julia, still sniffling, wiped her eyes with her sleeves and nodded. The four made their way to the couches. Katie grabbed a bottle of water for Julia, who held it against her neck. Without the generator running, the interior of 100 Beacon was stuffy and warm. This had a calming effect on her.
“It’s very dangerous out there, Julia,” started Steven. “I’ve been shot a few times, but never on American soil. I knew things would suck after the shit hit the fan, but I didn’t expect to be shooting at each other within days of it happening.”
“I know, Steven,” said Julia. “But what are we supposed to be doing?”
“Surviving,” replied Steven. He slumped back into the sofa, wincing as his shoulder hit the padding.
“We are, but where do we go from here?” asked Julia. “I guess I’m just trying to get an overall view of what we’re supposed to be doing.” She looked to Sarge for guidance, as she was having trouble finding the words to express her feelings. Sarge rescued her.
“Listen, guys, let’s not put too much pressure on ourselves right now to set a course for our lives,” said Sarge. “First, let’s be thankful we’re still alive. Steven was shot and survived. These two were in three gunfights in five days. I was chased by people who clearly wanted to kill me—just because I made the mistake of driving through their neighborhood!”
“That’s right,” added Steven. “The situation is only going to get more dangerous. As people get more desperate, they will become a threat.”
“And obviously, gangs are starting to form,” said Katie. “The opportunists out there know there is strength in numbers. It’s a matter of time before looting gets out of hand.”
Julia listened to their words, but her focus was still on the injured and the people displaced from their homes. “I know all that,” Julia said. “It’s a matter of time before our neighbors, or thugs, try to beat our doors down. Isn’t there something we can do right now, today, for the people who just had their asses blown up?” Julia shouted the last part of her statement. She could tell that the consensus was to stay put. Her gut told her she should try to help others. It would come back to them someday.
The room was silent for a few awkward moments. Sarge stood and walked towards the windows, hands in his pockets. Shaking his head, he turned and spoke.
“My, no, our number one priority is survival and staying safe. This may sound crass and insensitive, but those people out there are not our problem. Our decisions need to be practical, considering the risk versus the reward. There are—”
Julia interrupted. “What if we were the ones suffering from injuries? Look at Mass General. It’s like a war zone! What’s the harm in going over to offer a helping hand? I’m not saying we have to give up our food or guns or precious medical supplies. Let’s just, you know, help somebody!”
Katie and Steven remained silent, and wisely so. Sarge would always be the one to make decisions for the group. This responsibility carried a heavy burden, especially after the collapse of society. Julia stared at him. She would not go against his wishes, but she would not be happy if he turned down her pleas.
“What I was about to say was,” started Sarge, “there are bigger plans for us down the road. I’m not entirely certain about what caused these events, but that conversation can be held another time. I do know this. The Declaration of Martial Law by the President came quickly, as if prearranged. Steven and Katie’s observations of National Guard placement in Washington was organized at warp speed. There are aspects of this that stink to high heaven. If my hunch is correct, I believe we will play a significant role in saving Boston and maybe our nation. But, in any event, we have to maintain our humanity.”
Sarge walked back to the window, where the view of the city was becoming clearer. Julia joined him and held him around his waist. She whispered into his ear.
“I love you, Sarge. Let’s see if we can help them. Even if it’s just one.”
Chapter 5
Thursday, September 8, 2016
10:35 a.m.
100 Beacon
Boston, Massachusetts
Sarge and Steven went over the final preparations. The group agreed that Steven would remain behind and monitor a rooftop position with the Barrett .50-caliber rifle. Sarge, Katie, and Julia were going to walk up Storrow Drive to Mass General. The walk, which was less than a mile, would take about ten minutes. Steven would provide them some cover for the first half of the trek, but after that they were on their own.
Sarge thought they could help with the victims, as well as get a sense of what was happening in the city. The martial law declaration just took effect the night before, but he doubted the more onerous provisions had been implemented already—such as gun confiscation. All three of them would carry a concealed sidearm as well as two radios to contact Steven in the event of trouble.
Sarge would never admit this to Julia, but this was a terrible idea, in his opinion. He believed in the concept of karma, to an extent, but willfully entering what looked like a war zone for an unknown purpose just didn’t make sense. He needed to indulge Julia, not only because he loved her, but because she hadn’t been out of the building to witness the devastation firsthand. Moreover, she had no idea how the collapse had affected people. Going to Mass General was a relatively safe way to show her the realities of a post-collapse America.
“Listen, Sarge, I need to talk to you about something before you go,” said Steven. He pulled Sarge to the side, out of earshot of the girls. “It’s about Katie.”