God

Gibson pulled two small devices from his bag and held them out to me.

"What are these?"

"Personal radiation meters. From now on… you're going to need to start every day by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠checking these."

The cold weight of the meter in my palm felt like reality itself. The news Colonel Gibson had just delivered was so vast I couldn't even form another question. I simply listened.

"In a situation like this, it's hard to be certain of anything."

His voice was cracked and dry as the desert.

"Which way the wind will blow, what new tantrum this damned Great Winter will throw next—trying to predict the scope of the damage is meaningless."

"But Colonel, even if a nuclear plant went up, the idea that the damage spans multiple states still feels… off."

"I'm no expert, so I don't know the particulars. The problem is that the normal containment systems aren't functioning. The wind isn't behaving the way it used to, either… But one thing is certain. California, Arizona, and Nevada here—they're all going to die a slow death."

"Then why tell me this ahead of time? This has to be classified."

Gibson gave a hollow laugh.

"Classified? Please. Everyone's going to know soon enough. And besides—you people came all the way down here from Canada. You'll leave whenever you have to. That's why I have a favor to ask."

"A favor?"

He hesitated a moment, then went on.

"Take my family with you when you leave this place. My wife, my son, and my daughter. Ben and Emily."

The request caught me completely off guard. Gibson was looking at me not as a soldier but as a father, and his eyes were desperate.

"What about you, Colonel?"

At that, Gibson's face became a soldier's again. He straightened his uniform and answered in a few short words.

For a moment I had nothing. I knew what that meant, and I knew why, and there was not a single thing I could say. He broke the brief silence himself.

"My family will arrive here in Fallon today. I'm asking you, Polar Bear."

"I understand."

"Ah. You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette?"

"I do. Give me a second."

I brought a pack from the truck and handed it over, lighting one for myself as well. As Gibson sent a long stream of smoke drifting into the empty air, I asked him,

"Colonel—what should we do with the military assets the Division is holding?"

"They're cleared to go anywhere inside the state of Nevada anyway. After that… use your judgment."

"Understood. And take this."

"What is it?"

"I packed you some extra cigarettes."

"That's a blessing. Now I can smoke without my wife giving me the stink eye."

Those were his last words. Gibson climbed into his vehicle and left in a hurry. I stood there for a moment, gathering myself.

Then I went straight to my trailer and summoned every key person we had, including the Division platoon leaders. Once they were all assembled, I shared the devastating news I had heard from Gibson.

The explosion at the Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station.

The inside of the trailer went ice-cold in an instant.

Dave, always so cheerful, sat frozen with his mouth hanging open. Frank had gone white as a sheet. Bill swallowed hard. Mike closed his deeply lined eyes. Even Gunner—beneath ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that expressionless face, the muscle in his jaw was twitching.

It was Tank's low, quiet voice that broke the long, heavy silence.

"We leave."

Then Dave asked, his voice unsteady,

"But… if there was an explosion that big, why is it still so quiet out there? No news at all?"

Jed, who had been listening without a word, spoke up.

"I know a bit about that. A nuclear bomb and a nuclear power plant explosion are not the same thing."

Every eye in the trailer turned to him.

"With a nuclear bomb, the shockwave and the heat that destroy everything in an instant are the whole point. A reactor accident isn't like that. The problem is… the invisible radiation that spreads slowly, endlessly. Fallout carried on the wind. Groundwater contamination. That kind of thing."

No one spoke.

"What they felt as an explosion was probably hydrogen detonating after the fuel rods reacted with the coolant."

Bill asked back, incredulous.

"Even so, we're more than five hundred miles from there. Is this really something to get worked up over?"

Jed shook his head.

"If they fail to stop a full meltdown, everyone within a radius of dozens of miles dies on the spot. A hundred miles becomes complete wasteland. But the real problem comes after that."

He looked around at all of us, his voice calm but unyielding.

"More than the explosion itself, it's the enormous volume of radioactive fallout traveling on the wind. Those particles have no color and no smell—but they radiate death for hundreds of years."

The trailer stayed silent.

"When they settle on the ground, the soil is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠contaminated. When they fall in the rivers, the drinking water is contaminated. The plants that grow in that soil, the animals that drink that water, and us who eat them—we all rot from the inside, slowly. And with a volcanic winter stacked on top of a nuclear plant explosion… nuclear winter. What that would look like…"

Jed's explanation summoned a terror more terrible than any blast.

Mike picked up where he left off.

"The survivors are a problem too. Those people themselves become walking contamination sources. Nobody knows what kind of unpredictable trouble they'll bring with them."

Jed nodded.

"That's right. Radioactive material accumulated in the body keeps emitting radiation even if there are no immediate symptoms. In the end, Nevada here is caught between warlords to the north and an invisible death to the south—danger on both flanks."

Then Tank spoke.

"It was a buildup."

Frank frowned at him.

"What are you talking about, Tank?"

"Feels like the Earth was building up to its own extinction."

Raven, who had been listening quietly, whispered with a pale face.

"Dear God…"

"Then we shouldn't be sitting here! We need to pack up and run east right now!"

Frank's voice had risen. Mike put a hand up and reined him in.

"Calm down, Frank. We've got over a hundred vehicles gathered under the Polaris name. If we move without a plan, that itself becomes a disaster. This is the time for a cool head."

At Mike's words, every gaze in the room turned to me. I met those eyes and spoke.

"There's a Korean saying: the more haste, the more you take the long way around. Effective immediately, I am activating Code Black. I will issue directives for an orderly withdrawal—no. An orderly relocation."

I looked at the Division platoon leaders.

"First—platoon leaders. Keep your soldiers from panicking. Inform them that this camp's next destination will be Ely, on the Utah border, and prepare to move."

One of the platoon leaders asked,

"Commander, are we keeping the nuclear accident classified?"

"No. Secrets leak, and leaked secrets only create greater chaos. Tell them the truth—but tell them to stay calm. And make sure unconfirmed rumors are locked down tight."

Then I called Matthews, Jake, and Tank.

"Matthews. Organize an advance party with Second Squad and one armored vehicle. As soon as you're ready, move out first and secure the route to Ely."

"Tank, you load aviation fuel onto a supply trailer and move with Matthews. You're responsible for the advance party's resupply."

"Jake—support Matthews with aerial reconnaissance from the helicopter."

The moment I finished, Matthews saluted and moved out at a clip. Tank and Jake offered a nod of acknowledgment and followed him.

Then I looked at Bill.

"Bill. Immediately organize the members who can move into sequential convoys and have them follow the advance party. Members traveling with families, shift them to later waves based on their readiness."

Finally I looked at Mike.

"Mike, draw up the main body's movement plan to match the Division families' relocation status. And don't forget the families of the advance party that already left."

Mike nodded at the order, and Dave added,

"Don't worry about packing. Our people are always ready to leave at a moment's notice. Just take care of the people."

Frank spoke as if to put the room at ease.

"I gave the Anderson family a heads-up that a move was coming. Looked like they'd already started getting ready."

As everyone scattered to their tasks, the phone in my pocket rang. It was the number Gibson had given me—his wife's.

Her voice on the other end was steeped in grief, but it was remarkably composed. After the brief call, Fallon Camp began to move with the urgency of a wartime operation.

Not long after, the advance party led by Matthews finished preparing to depart, armored vehicle at the front. Just before they rolled, Anderson and Walker came to find me.

"Polar Bear. We're ready to go as well."

"If you're ready, it would be best to move with the advance party. Before the roads get any worse."

"Then we'll head out first."

And so, behind Matthews's armored vehicle and Humvee, and Tank's supply truck, the Anderson family's vehicles and a handful of the unattached truckers' rigs fell into line.

I listened to their last transmissions over the radio, watching the lights recede toward the east in silence.

Watching the column roll out of Fallon Camp, I thought it was a blessing in the middle of a catastrophe.

Moving the base from Carson to Fallon. Getting the Union and Division families relocated near the camp ahead of time. Trusting Wolf's instincts and acting on them. Gibson putting the information in my hands a step early. All of it.

But at the same time, the fact that we had to abandon everything we had built—again—settled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on my chest like a weight.

On this endless road of flight, will we ever find a place to rest? The thought rose unbidden. But perhaps what we were looking for was not land at all. Perhaps it was the act of defying this cruel fate itself.

I watched the tail of the column and picked up the radio.

I did not believe in God. But in this moment, it felt like we needed one.