The Signal

A few days later, a familiar convoy of vehicles began rolling in through the camp gate. Dave and Frank had arrived, bringing with them all the families who had stayed behind in Carson to join us at Fallon Camp.

Dave climbed down from his brand-new, gleaming truck and swept me into a bear hug the instant he saw me.

"Man, I knew it. This is the only way I can actually relax — all of us together in one place!"

Frank clicked his tongue at the sight.

"I was starting to think you'd come down with a case of lovesickness. Wish granted now, pal?"

I grinned and asked him,

"Frank, what about the exchange office?"

"The Anderson family turned out to be the most reliable people I could find. Smith, Walker, and me — the four of us are rotating the work. We'll swap out on the regular runs between Carson and Fallon. Anderson's holding it down for now."

"When did you get so close with them?"

"It's not like I've got twelve bodies, Chan. How was I supposed to handle all that work by myself? The Andersons are part of the Frank Group now."

Frank laid it on thick, and I couldn't help laughing.

"The Frank Group?"

"Don't even get me started, Chan. That guy's the Carson Trading Post director now — and self-proclaimed Chairman of the Frank Group."

Dave's wisecrack set all of us off laughing.

A few more busy days passed, and then Bill and Gunner came to see me together. Gunner spread a map and reported first.

"Boss, we've secured the logistics and security posts along Route 50. Checkpoint construction and supply transport to Ely, not far from the Utah border, are both complete. The National Guard's got a post up there."

I waited for him to go on.

"If we need it, our trucks can refuel and rest at the Ely checkpoint. And at Austin, the midpoint on the road to Ely, we've stationed part of the Division's quick reaction team — just in case."

Then Bill held out a sheaf of papers.

"We've received the first regular logistics route request from the state government. Nevada sends weapons and ammunition to Utah, and in return we haul their food back. If this takes hold, we might even be able to set up a Union outpost in Salt Lake City."

And just like that, Fallon Camp settled fully into what it was meant to be — a Division military base, a Union logistics hub, and at last a village for our Polaris community.

Mornings began with the children collecting eggs from the second chicken trailer Jed had converted. The fresh eggs pouring out every day were the hottest commodity at the Carson Trading ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Post.

Around midday, Dave's truck would arrive from Tahoe, its refrigerated container packed with fresh salmon and trout the Anderson family had pulled from the ice overnight.

"Chan, look at this. Pretty solid, huh?"

"Yeah, it is."

Dave seemed to have turned into a stockpiler just like me. Off to the side, Frank was grinning to himself, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

"Frank, something good happen?"

"Haha, just finished tallying today's exchange office take and the trading post profits. Three small gold bars, a stack of cash, and as for live rounds... whew, I can barely count them all."

The profits he brought in weren't just cash. He turned that money around, buying more goods for the trading post and growing our wealth.

With everyone gathered in one place, a rare sense of ease seemed to settle over us.

I wasn't the only one who felt it. Walking Wolf through the camp, I came across Jed, Jake and Cody, and a few Division soldiers laughing as they stood over a drone.

"Jed, something interesting going on?"

"Haha. Trying to build something fun."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Want to use the drones as wireless comms relays."

"Whoa. That's a great idea."

"Course, flight time's limited, so we'd need some kind of comms schedule. But we could stretch the existing range from tens of miles to hundreds."

"I like it. Think it's doable?"

"Haha, the Division signalmen already helped us finish the basic tests. Now we just need to trial the actual long-distance relay."

"Good. I've been worried about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how hard it is to communicate outside the city. This is perfect."

We each brought our own talents to the table, and watching them mesh together so organically, I couldn't help but be impressed.

And it went further than that. Raising chickens for eggs, catching salmon to sell, turning that money around to buy what we needed — even managing the value of currency itself. Watching the Frank Group operate inside the Polaris community, I was reminded once again that in this broken world, Frank had become someone we simply could not do without.

Before we knew it, the supplies we'd accumulated had filled seven containers, and we'd secured three tankers loaded with diesel. Life at Fallon Camp had grown remarkably stable.

A few days later, we all gathered in the motorhome for the first time in a while.

Raven and Sarah had laid out a feast to celebrate Eleanor's birthday — Dave's mother.

A moment later Sarah carefully brought out a birthday cake, and every eye in the room went wide. A fine coat of white cream over a fluffy sponge, dried fruit studded into it like jewels — a cake that felt, in this world, like a miracle.

"What is this?"

"Oh my God..."

"A cake? How did you even...?"

No one could hide their astonishment, and Dave couldn't take his eyes off it. Frank puffed out his chest with a smug little thump.

"Haha, who else but yours truly could've scored ingredients this rare?"

"Frank, I truly thank you. To enjoy a luxury like this on an old woman's birthday... Sarah, you worked so hard. How on earth did you make this?"

Dave and Eleanor offered their heartfelt thanks, and Sarah just smiled, looking a little shy. Eleanor closed her eyes, made a wish, and carefully blew out the candles. The motorhome erupted in applause and cheers.

It had been so long since anyone had tasted a real dessert. One soft slice of cake drew happy sighs from everyone.

"Wow... it melts. It just melts. Like chewing on a cloud."

Dave closed his eyes, savoring it, and even Tank — usually so taciturn — wore a faint smile as he murmured,

"To be able to eat something like this. Feels like I'm actually alive."

"Adam, you'll get a stomachache if you eat that fast. Savor it."

Raven gently wiped the cream from her son Adam's mouth as she whispered.

"That's incredible skill, Sarah. You'll have to teach me next time."

Chloe took Sarah's hand, genuinely impressed. Mike, watching the scene with a warm look, raised his glass to me.

"Chan, thanks to you, we get to have days like this. To all of us. Cheers."

"Cheers!"

Looking at the happy smiles spreading across every face, I finally understood. What we were protecting and building wasn't merely survival. It was this — these ordinary, precious moments.

Time passed, and it became mid-August.

Once upon a time this would have been the heart of summer, but the world was still cold. At night the temperature dropped to twenty below, but everyone seemed to have grown used to the chill, quietly carrying on with their days.

I was feeling a kind of stability I hadn't known in a long time. Every member of our scattered family had gathered in one place at Fallon Camp, and we had a fairly solid defensive force besides.

With the Union's help, the Nevada National Guard had established defensive posts at Winnemucca and Wells against threats from the north, and new outposts at Tonopah and Warm Springs to keep the chaos of the south at a distance.

The Federal government and the Southern Confederacy were still pointing guns at each other, but neither seemed to have the strength for a full-scale war.

Then one evening, I called the key personnel together in the trailer.

It was supposed to be a regular meeting to share updates, but things had grown so stable it was closer to sitting around with beer and tea, shooting the breeze.

That was when Cody, who had been turning the dial on an old AM radio right up until the meeting started, frowned and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spoke up.

"Boss, I just picked up a strange broadcast."

"On the radio?"

"Yes. Sounded like an emergency broadcast from the south... there was this bizarre, unintelligible noise mixed in, and then it cut off suddenly. Almost like a scream..."

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mood in the trailer dipped.

"South, huh. Figures. Raiders probably seized a radio station."

Frank said it like it was nothing.

"Yeah. That kind of thing happens down there every other day."

Dave chimed in. But Cody shook his head.

"There's something else that's off. The major subreddits for Arizona and Southern California... they've stopped updating. Like the internet just went down all at once."

At Cody's words, the noisy trailer fell silent, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over us.

That was when it happened.

Wolf, who had been curled at my feet, suddenly sprang up. He stared hard toward the south and began to howl, low and long.

"Awoooo, awooooooo..."

"Wolf pack out there or something?"

Bill looked out the window, but every eye was locked on Wolf, howling in agitation. He wouldn't settle, and from that I knew. Wolf had sensed something vast.

I looked around at everyone and spoke quietly.

"Boss, do we really need to go that far? Could just be a bad omen."

Frank asked carefully. I stroked Wolf's trembling back as I answered.

"Right before the earthquake, at the farm in California — Wolf looked exactly like this."

At my words, Mike stood up, his mind made up.

"Right or wrong, it never hurts to be ready. If we prep for Code Black and nothing happens, that's something to celebrate, isn't it?"

That was the signal. Everyone moved as one. Frank immediately called Smith.

Bill, radio in one hand and phone in the other, was already making emergency calls to Union members scattered around the outskirts of Fallon. The peaceful night at camp was once again wound tight with tension.

That anxious, frantic night passed.

From the next morning, Fallon Camp was packed with trucks and caravans that had been emergency-summoned without explanation. But not a single person complained.

Everyone had learned the hard way, through everything we'd been through, that a warning from Polar Bear was never something to take lightly.

That afternoon, Colonel Gibson's vehicle came tearing through the camp gate, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The moment I saw the grim look on his face as he stepped out, I knew something truly terrible had happened. Gibson asked me urgently the instant he saw me.

"You... did you already know something?"

"Not exactly. But I had a bad feeling that something was happening, so I gathered everyone."

Gibson stared at me for a moment, at a loss for words.

"So that's another side of that gift of yours."

"What's going on, Colonel?"

He gripped my shoulder and spoke in a low voice.

"Polar Bear. Listen carefully."

"Yes, Colonel."

"Palo Verde?"

"The nuclear power plant."

For a moment I couldn't believe my ears.

"That's right. About two hundred and fifteen miles southeast of Las Vegas — the nuclear plant in Arizona. It exploded."

"How could that even..."

He let out a long, heavy breath.

"The price of abandoning that region, I suppose. In all the chaos, it wasn't being maintained. One of the three reactors exploded, and the last report before we lost comms with the site said there was no way to stop a meltdown."

"Then the other two...?"

Gibson let out another long sigh before continuing.

"When they can't even keep the armed gangs in check, you think they could handle that?"

"Colonel, we're about five hundred miles from there. This place should still be safe, shouldn't it?"

Gibson shook his head at my question. Deep despair sat in his eyes.

"Get a hundred miles out and you won't die on the spot, sure."

I said nothing.

"But Palo Verde has three 1,400-megawatt reactors. In raw numbers, that's four times Chernobyl. Sixteen hundred times the Hiroshima bomb. That's how much radioactive material it's sitting on."