Speed
The number blinking on the radiation meter's display was no mere warning. It felt like a milestone of despair, mocking every desperate effort we had poured into the last ten hours of running.
Despite covering three hundred miles — five hundred kilometers — of vast Nevada from west to east without rest, the invisible shadow of death had only drawn closer.
I couldn't hide the bitterness. There was no way of knowing exactly what had happened at Palo Verde, or how severe the accident had been. But if its effects could be felt from eight hundred kilometers away, this was already beyond a simple accident. It was the beginning of a catastrophe.
Part of me wanted to drive through the night, all the way past Utah. I had the stamina for it. But this wasn't a journey I was making alone. In the rearview mirror, an endless chain of red taillights stretched behind me, and in every one of those lights I felt the weight of exhausted families leaning into their seats.
I hardened my resolve. We would rest at Ely, as planned.
Matthews's Alpha Echelon had carried out their mission perfectly, as promised. The wide lot they had secured in coordination with the National Guard already had guide lights in place, and under their signals every Polaris vehicle filed into position in orderly ranks.
The long column of steel finally came to a halt, and one by one the engines died, announcing that the long night of driving was over. I pressed the PTT button on the radio.
A short while later, Dave, Frank, Bill, and the Division platoon leaders gathered in my trailer, exhaustion written plainly on their faces. As soon as everyone had taken a seat, I looked at Jed.
"Jed, the reading you just took was 0.44 microsieverts. What does that mean?"
Jed answered with a calm, even expression.
"Even at this distance, the numbers oscillating between 0.4 and 0.5 tell us one thing for certain — a massive amount of radiation has been released from the south."
I said nothing.
"And though we've been moving west to east, Palo Verde sits diagonally to the southwest. In a straight line, we haven't put nearly as much distance between us as it feels."
"Not that we could take I-80 anyway. That's 3rd Brigade territory."
"And the wind seems to be blowing northeast."
"Even so — we just ran three hundred miles. The wind can't be that fast, can it?"
Jed shook his head at my question.
"Boss, you gotta look at this a different way. Wind speed isn't what matters. Radiation itself travels at the speed of light."
The trailer went still.
"In other words, even if the fallout cloud is still far off, high-energy radiation like gamma rays from that cloud can fly hundreds of kilometers and register on our meters. The numbers we're seeing right now are a kind of warning light."
Everyone's faces hardened at his explanation. Then the fire support platoon leader pointed at the map.
"Commander, terrain is a factor too. Carson and Fallon have the Sierra Nevada acting as a massive wall to the west, but from Ely onward we're connected directly to the wide basin country of southern Nevada. If something's riding the wind, Ely is actually the more exposed position."
"Then geographically, where's the next waypoint we can feel reasonably safe?"
The platoon leader traced US Route 50 with his finger.
"We'll need to reach at least Scipio, where the road enters Fishlake National Forest in central Utah. From there the high ranges can serve as a barrier again."
I made my decision and looked at Matthews.
"Matthews, tomorrow our objective is Scipio at minimum. Salina if we can make it — that's where US-50 meets Interstate 70."
Mike spoke up.
"That's not going to be simple, even assuming nothing happens along the way. It's two hundred miles, but we don't know what we'll run into once we cross into Utah, and the route takes us through the middle of at least two Utah towns, small as they are."
I waited.
"And once we enter Fishlake National Forest, the roads aren't those long, straight Nevada stretches."
"Understood. We'll treat it as a target for now. Matthews, do you know anything about the situation in Utah — the National Guard's mood, especially?"
"Nothing unusual on the regular comms from the Ely base, sir. The people on the ground probably still don't know exactly what's happening."
Then Ryker, sitting beside him, asked the question hanging in the air.
"Boss, what if... Utah seals the state line?"
I took a moment to gather my thoughts. Every eye in the trailer locked onto me.
At my answer, everyone in the room gave a slight nod — quiet, but with a look of resolve, as if they had all agreed beforehand. There were no more questions.
"Good. Everyone get back and rest as much as you can."
As the gathered men filed out of the trailer toward their own places, Dave and Mike stayed behind. Mike approached me first, speaking in a low voice.
"Chan, I think I'd better move with Alpha Echelon tomorrow."
"Is something going on?"
I asked, puzzled by the sudden suggestion.
"The Utah state line we're going to hit tomorrow is going to be a major gateway. But forcing through isn't always the right answer. Right now, the most important thing for us is speed."
Mike turned his gaze toward the darkness beyond the trailer door as he continued.
"Avoiding unnecessary conflict is the best way to keep the column from slowing down. I think I should be at Matthews's side — to keep things from getting emotional if a situation develops."
His seasoned judgment was always right. I had already thought that Matthews and Ryker, young and full of fire, might well make a bad call on their own.
"You're right. I can command Delta Echelon myself, so please do. I'm counting on you."
Mike put a hand on my shoulder for a moment, then vanished quietly into the darkness. Then Dave scratched his head and came over.
"Chan, we've got a problem, though."
"Yeah? What?"
"Colonel Gibson's wife. She doesn't have a decent place to sleep tonight."
"Ah, damn..."
I pressed my forehead. In all the chaos, I hadn't even thought that far.
"Don't worry. I already took care of it."
"How?"
"Told her to sleep in my caravan for now. But then I thought about it — this is going to keep being a problem going forward. So I was thinking... what if I just give them my caravan?"
"You sure? That's space your family uses."
Dave waved a hand and grinned at my concern.
"Come on, I've got a proper new truck now. Honestly, hauling the caravan around's been a little awkward anyway. Mom pretty much lives in the motorhome, so the truck sleeper's plenty for me. It's loaded on Frank's trailer right now, but I'll unload it in the morning and hook it straight up to her minivan."
"Alright. Thanks, Dave."
He was always like that. Quietly filling in the gaps I couldn't see, the things I failed to take care of.
With the minimum preparations for the first night of the escape complete, I tossed Wolf a piece of jerky.
"Everything's going to be alright. Right?"
"Woof!"
He barked a short, vigorous agreement. And so, leaning on Wolf's affirmation, I closed out the long day.
Lying in bed, I closed my eyes. My body was exhausted, but my mind was sharp. Suddenly, an old memory of my father surfaced.
It was a clear summer day, and I was fishing with my father in a deep valley. He had been absorbed in the water for a long while when he suddenly called to me.
"Chan. Pack up. Come on."
"What? Why, Dad?"
"I think it's about to pour."
I looked up at the blue sky and frowned.
"The forecast said it was going to be clear all day."
Father folded up his rod and smiled.
"Look at that. The ants are marching up the bank in a line, and over the water the dragonflies are flying low. That's a sign of heavy rain coming. Ah, more than that, though. Something just feels off. Heavy. Wrong."
"Aw, I was just starting to have fun..."
"Chan. The forecast tells you the weather for this whole area, but it doesn't tell you what's about to happen right here, right now. We got a good day's fishing in. Even if I'm wrong, we haven't lost a thing."
I grumbled, but I packed. By the time we had gathered everything and climbed into the car, the sky was still blazing blue.
"Dad, the sun's still out. We could've stayed a little longer."
"We've already packed. Be a hassle to unpack it all again, wouldn't it?"
He just smiled and took the wheel. That evening, back home, I was watching the news when I caught my breath.
A sudden cloudburst had slammed the very valley we had been in. The water had risen so fast that campers who hadn't gotten out in time were stranded.
That memory was the last thing I held onto as I sank into a deep sleep.
The next morning, I woke as I always did.
The rich smell of coffee filled the trailer. I stepped out into the cold dawn air with Wolf and began the familiar rhythm of the day.
I ran the perimeter of the camp as the light came up, checking on the column with Wolf at my side. The fatigue of the all-night drive hadn't fully lifted, but the night's rest seemed to have restored some of everyone's energy.
Then Gunner emerged from the trailer quarters and fell in beside me, matching my pace.
"Boss."
"Yeah, Gunner."
"That Stryker at the rear — what if we attach it to the lead Alpha Echelon entirely?"
"Hmm. Depending on the situation, a show of force wouldn't be a bad idea. Let's do it."
In the distance, Matthews and Ryker were organizing the column. Beside them, Dave and Frank were bickering as they lowered the caravan from the massive trailer and connected it to Mrs. Gibson's minivan.
And so the second day of the escape began.
Every column hurried through departure preparations. After a brief radio exchange between Mike and Matthews, the great steel procession began moving east once more, in search of new ground.
With Matthews's terse report, the lead column slid into the darkness, engines rumbling heavy.
Five minutes later, Bravo Echelon under Big Bill followed in their wake.
I sat in the driver's seat and checked the radiation meter one last time. The display showed a number that had climbed again overnight.
The invisible shadow of death neither tired nor rested. While we slept, it had taken a long stride closer.
The thought crossed my mind that it might even be faster than we could run.