Days of the Sun Storm

By P.S. Finley

Solar flares have knocked out radio transmissions and crippled power grids all over the planet. During the crisis, rookie cop Billy McConnell has been tasked with transporting a mental patient who is in serious physical condition. She has been diagnosed as paranoid-delusional because she claims that space aliens are after her. Insensitive onlookers labeled the girl as retarded because she vocalizes much like a deaf person. The doctor in charge has warned Billy against head games that she might play. What begins as a routine journey turns into the challenge of his life. The words of this suffering patient prick his sense of guilt. Her eyes touch his soul. But more serious, they are indeed being hunted. Officer McConnell must sort out trauma from truth, personal feelings from regulations. They are alone out in the desert, cut off from communications and backup support.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P.S. Finley
• Release date: Jan 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310555770

P.S. Finley

Retired from the IT profession, this author now rakes up thirty years of fiction ideas into original sub-genres. The works will vary: theatrical plays, children's adventure, space opera, suspense, and comedy.

Book preview

Chapter One

Not everyone survives seasons of relentless desperation. During such hours, however, there are those hearts who cannot give up. They are the people who can breathe triumph into the destinies of others.

In the western town of Gibson Butte, an Army colonel addressed city officials, police, and public service employees. The meeting was held in an aircraft hanger at the municipal airport. Without electricity to the building, light was provided by doors fully opened to the daylight. Outside, a mechanic serviced the small utility helicopter by which he had arrived. The collective mood was tense. People were tired from long work hours. Food rations had left most a little bit on the hungry side. All of them shared a burning desire to hear news of the outside world.

Police Sergeant Rolland Maynard was a burly, heavy set man nearing retirement age. What's the current situation?

The Army colonel was patient. It was like this in every town. He needed to present a national disaster plan, but desperate minds first needed to know. The solar flares are still knocking down communications. We have no satellites… no radio stations… no cel phone towers… no hand radios. Power grids are down all over the planet.

A common question was called out, Why is it the same during nighttime?

The colonel gave a nod, The scientists tell us that the effect is somehow wrapping around the Van Allen belt. He took in a deep breath and sighed, The astronomers have their estimates on how long this will last, but to be honest with you, I don't think they have a clue.

Do we still have a country?

The colonel made a slight, nervous scratch at his cheek, Barely. Some sectors are out of control, but by and large, yes.

The more he answered, the higher the emotions ran, Which sectors?

Food riots in urban centers around the country… health care collapse in all the high tech hospitals… gangs have completely overrun southern California.

Well what on earth is the National Guard doing down there?

There's not much they can do. With no phones, citizens can't call nine one one. With no radios, law enforcement can't dispatch. The colonel looked to the wistful police sergeant, I'm preaching to the choir on that one. He then added, In SoCal, the gangs were the only ones with weapons, so it was a walkover. It's now a war zone.

There was a sober silence in the hanger. Sergeant Maynard quietly asked, So, what do you want from us?

The colonel raised his hands in an appeal for people to remain calm, At the moment… at this time… our country still has an economy. The banks are dead, but the ration and voucher plan appears to be working. Officially, we're holding at stage three, economic crisis. He folded his hands and leaned on the podium, If the solar storms abate, then we're on the road to recovery. But if conditions persist, then the erosion to commerce will worsen.

Another worried voice called out, Which means?

We are conducting a strategic economic retreat. In anticipation of road systems breaking down and militia groups intercepting convoys, the country will narrow its commerce toward main arteries. An unease began to pervade the hanger. I want to emphasize! We are okay for the moment. Gibson Butte will continue to receive commerce today, this week, and next week. But one month from now? I don't know.

One of the police officers demanded, What are you saying?

If this town were cut off, without technological support, then it would be unable to provide for its full population on a subsistence level. He paused to let that sink in. We are beginning a voluntary evacuation of people to main commerce artery locations.

Wary, the skeptical police sergeant echoed, Voluntary…

Officer Gordon Zachary took a challenging step closer, Voluntary, as in the military is so badly stretched out that it can't force us to do it?

Sergeant Rolland slowly looked aside at him for a moment. Although he shared the same thought, he wanted to keep things moving forward. Zach… Not helping.

The colonel was all too aware that this area of the country lacked trust in Washington, DC. He conceded, If you like, yes. We can't force you at this time. All I can say is, don't bite the hand that's trying to help you.

Zachary folded his arms, Help us? You're the one who needs our help! You need our cattle, you need our crops.

Sergeant Maynard turned around and raised his hands. People, this isn't the time! Everyone here is wore' out and frazzled. Knuckle down and keep at this! He then turned back, Colonel, what about this evacuation?

He gave a grateful nod, The common denominator is, anyone who cannot contribute to the farm and ranch industries in this town. Children… elderly…

Now just a minute! I can take care of my kids just fine!

I'm sure you can, Sir. If you've got survival rations and enough bullets to hold off everyone setting siege to your house, then go for it. But my guess is, most people in this town aren't able to do that. The colonel's tone became more gentle, We want to evacuate people to specialized support centers.

Another distrustful voice called out from the back, You mean camps, don't you?

Again, the Army officer took a calming breath, Very well then… camps. Call it what you like. Children will need healthy young adult females to serve as group-moms. We want a mom ratio of one to twelve.

What do you mean, 'healthy'?

The colonel didn't miss a beat. He immediately replied, Pharmaceuticals are becoming as rare as hen's teeth. We can't guarantee prescription supplies to every location.

A paramedic, obviously a concerned mother, became upset. What about the kids? You'll only take the healthy ones?

The colonel maintained his calm a midst rising tensions, All children are evacuating to same destinations at this time. Presently, the only limiting factor would be need for hospitalization.

She shook her head, Then you should be able to supply prescriptions for the mothers along with the children!

Ma'am, at this point, we need to minimize logistical burdens as much as we can. As people become settled, needs can be registered and accommodated.

Maynard asked, What about other folks, elderly and hospital patients?

That's part of the plan.

The aggressive Officer Zachary asked, Are they transporting to the same location as the children?

Well Officer, the elderly probably wouldn't do well in a tent city. No, nursing home elderly will be taken to more permanent facilities, as will the children when winter approaches.

Sergeant Maynard pointed out, We've got a jail up the road. What about them?

The colonel folded his hands, It varies. I know of one inmate who's being handed a martial law pardon. He was imprisoned for defending his family. That's exactly the kind of man we need at a time like this. He's going home. Other non-violent convicts will be conscripted into work groups.

And the violent criminals?

The Army officer quietly answered, They're staying right where they are. Whatever ration drops they get will have to do.

After a telling silence, a voice quietly exclaimed, Whoa…

Yeah. Whoa.

Zachary stared hard and spoke accusingly, You've got your prisoner profiles all ready to go, don't you? All that Reaper Protocol conspiracy talk the government denied for so long… it's really true after all!

The colonel didn't give a direct answer. We could just leave the whole lot of them locked up, right?

The point was moot, now. Maynard asked, Colonel, we have a mental unit at the hospital. What about those patients?

They are also being evacuated… and yes, to a different location than the children.

The paramedic made an observation. Her tone wasn't so much accusatory as it was fearful. All these different locations… if America does reach total commercial breakdown, who's going to get their supply plugs pulled first? The elderly? The mental patients?

Zachary accused, It'll be real easy! Those different groups will already be nicely isolated from each other. How convenient!

The colonel vented with a little anger, I'm telling you that today… our road system is intact. Today… we have air conditioned buses to transport the elderly. One month from now, neither of those might be true. You want to keep your people here? Then do it. And when that day comes when you're trapped here, I want you to look back and remember. You had your chance! He then pointed outside, "Don't accuse me of rounding up people like cattle. You've been doing exactly the same thing! Stranded travelers, indigents, the homeless, desperate people who burglarized in this town for food… you've consolidated them into a 'camp'. Don't you point a finger at the Fed." Realizing that his forcefulness might have ignited conflict, he looked to the police sergeant.

Maynard turned to face the group. Folks, we're gonna be in a world of hurt if commerce stops coming our way. We're too far off the main interstate. For me, I do not want to see the day when the majority of this town finds itself trapped and starving. The man said the magic words. It's voluntary.

The colonel added, My job is to convince you. Your job is to convince your fellow townsfolk.

Tears filled the paramedic's eyes, We've gotta do this.

With a tired sigh, Maynard nodded. He glanced at a few front pages of a paper report. Buses'll be here in eight days. Today is briefing and Q&A. Tomorrow, we hash out logistics. Day after, we hold town meetings. Spread the word.

Chapter Two

The tradition of police station morning shift meetings carried on.

All right, listen up! The duty sergeant picked up a loose pile of papers, Item one! Mrs. Sweeney came to the station… His face took on an irked expression, "… worried she'll get evicted because there's no mail service to send mortgage payments?… What is this? Annoyed, he smacked the pile onto a table, Give me the real list!"

Sorry, Sarge.

Maynard resumed with a new stack, Okay! Utilities say someone's tapping into their generator line. They won't track it down because of a sniper. Greene! We have any IR and UV that still work?

Affirmative, Sergeant.

Good. Wait until you can scope clear readings. Escort utilities and rip out the splices.

And if I spot a sniper?

Shoot anything that registers body heat. If it's edible, bring it back. His words might sound disturbingly trigger happy, but everyone understood what he really meant. The sergeant slapped the page on the bottom of his stack and read on, McConnell! Are you even here?

Here, Sarge.

He threw him a set of car keys, You're too quiet. You're transporting a patient from the nut house, all the way to destination.

Puzzled, the young man stepped closer, Nobody's going to voucher gasoline just to deliver one patient that far!

You're also riding pony express. Your cruiser's going to be packed to the gills with communiques.

Roger.

And wear a uniform, a clean one! That might be the only thing that gets people to let you through.

Rookie cop William 'Billy' McConnell took the transfer orders and headed out, Or makes me a target. He wasn't complaining. The sergeant was correct, indeed. But so was he.

Maynard wasn't offended. He simply continued, And this goes for everyone! We still have plenty of well water in this town to take baths. Let's not forget that!

A female officer sipped at some precious coffee that she'd brewed from her secret stash, I will if you will, Sergeant. The room erupted with laughter.

Billy hastened on his way. As soon as he stepped outside, he donned his trooper hat. Everyone wore hats during this time. Word was, even though the solar storm wasn't bringing down dangerous radiations, the sunlight was still unusually intense. He didn't drive directly to the hospital. Instead, he dropped by a large car wash facility. There, a small crowd milled about dozens of wash bins. Many were visitors, others were stationed there. The entire facility had been converted into a hand wash laundromat. Before exiting the car, he pushed at the bundles of communiques filling the passenger side, This isn't going to work. There wasn't room for his favorite police academy mug, and that simply wouldn't do. It was a formidable, tightly bound mass. Somebody had done a thorough job of poking into nooks and crannies. Giving up only for the moment, he set his mug on the dashboard. He flipped the hidden trunk release switch and then got out. Not about to embark on any journey without verifying proper rations and water, he inspected the trunk. It had been equally well saturated with assault rifle, ammunition, rations, and more bundles.

A young man in his late teens approached. Hey! This is slavery! Why are we being forced to do everyone's laundry?

Billy closed the trunk and spotted the girl he came to see. Let me ask you… He began walking, Are you getting food to eat? A warm place to sleep at night?

Well, yeah.

Then don't gripe. A lot of people in this country would gladly trade places with you.

"Then why don't you do it? It's gross!"

Billy paused for a moment. He surveyed the whining young man and shook his head with a smile of limited sympathy. All the smart phone addicts are going through withdrawals. Welcome to reality, my friend. Here's a history lesson for you. This is how your ancestors lived from day to day. He gave the teen some hard pats on the shoulder and then proceeded.

The wash girl had seen Billy coming. She approached with his clothing bundle and spoke quietly, Officer McConnell? I don't mind doing this.

He gave her a kindly smile and gently grasped her shoulder, I know you don't. You're a hard worker, and I don't take your contribution lightly.

She brushed aside the long hair out of her face, You think there's any chance I can get back to Omaha? I know it's a long way off, but it's my home!

Jeanette, I haven't heard anything yet, not word one. I don't think that any of us are going anywhere for a while.

What about horses? I heard that people are beginning to use them again.

Billy tipped his head, Indeed they are. I haven't heard of anyone reviving wagon trains, but I'll come tell you if I do.

Encouraged, the girl managed a smile, Thanks.

Keep hanging in there.

Chapter Three

Officer McConnell pulled into the driveway loop of the Jonniston Mental Health Unit. A parking spot was reserved for police, but it didn't matter today. Lack of driving was the mother of empty parking lots. He got out and dragged a fallen tree limb off of the street before entering.

The facility was rather full today. Crisis times stressed many people to their limits, and beyond. Outside the building, small support groups met under makeshift canopies and awnings. Doubling this effort as a ration center turned out to be a successful idea. Meal distribution had a calming effect upon a worried people. As Billy passed by, citizens reacted to him with mixed emotions. On the one hand, they depended upon him heavily to prevent social chaos. On the other, however, there were the common fears which come with martial law.

After taking time to give a wave or have a quick word with anyone who greeted him, Billy entered the facility. Since nonessential electricity was down, the receptionist had to unlock the improvised padlock on the door. Hey, McConnell. He entered, drew his pistol, checked the safety, and then handed it to her. She gave him a slightly sullen look and beckoned with her fingers, And the rest?

Hazel, if I have to pull all my backup weapons, it'll take all day. Come on, gimme a break. You've got the obvious. He didn't give her much time to respond. Shayla available?

Relenting, she led him in, Yes, but don't you want to talk with Doctor Stapleton?

No, doctors don't tell us anything. Nurse Shayla knows all.

Hazel smiled, And she's unmarried, too!

A little tense, he cleared his throat and straightened up, Yes ma'am.

While he waited, he surveyed the surroundings. Most of the walls were half-height. Reinforced windows allowed easy view of the adjoining common areas. The security desk was unmanned at the moment. Billy glanced at his watch and surmised, On break or busy.

A young nurse briskly walked up to him, "McConnell, tell me you're not bringing us any more business! We're overflowing!"

He very gently took hold under her chin and turned her head to one side, Nah, not this time. Is that makeup, or are you actually healed up?

Nurse Shayla Simmons folded her arms, I'm fine. So is the drunk you clobbered. You need to exercise more restraint.

Billy had no apology to offer, "I did. That was restraint. If he hadn't punched you in the face, then I wouldn't have needed to restrain him."

What do you want, McConnell?

Transport duty. I'm here for a pickup. He lowered his voice, Shay, what's going on here?

She looked around and discretely took his hand, Come on. She led him into the small employee kitchenette which she accessed with a key. Billy, this is a difficult case. We've got a girl. We've got no ID on her, she's delusional, and she's not eating… anything.

When she gets hungry enough…

Shayla shook her head, No. She throws up anything we give her, violent reaction.

She a threat to herself?

The nurse sighed, reviewing her opinion. Other than the non-eating, no. She's never exhibited any acts of violence.

Officer McConnell shrugged, Sounds like she needs to be admitted to intensive care.

No, you need to get her out of here.

Surprised, he gave her a puzzled look, What?

Nurse Shayla breathed out a controlled, tense exhale. Her eye contact betrayed apprehension.

Come on. Between you and me. She still didn't respond. All right, it must be serious. You have my word. If I'm ever called to testify, I have short memory. Come on, Shay. You know me.

She calmed a bit and gave a nod, Doctor Stapleton isn't treating her well. He screwed up, and now he's blaming the victim.

What happened?

Lita… that's the girl's name… she was in a panic, said she can't take medicines. He forced a sedative and it caused a violent reaction. It almost killed her.

And he's blaming her? You've got to be kidding me!

She gestured up a hand, He claims that her food and medicine reactions are severe psychosomatics. He thinks she can throw herself into these fits like flipping a switch.

What do you think? She hesitated, so he exhorted her, Come on.

With him, it's personal now. No patient is going to make him look bad like that. He's declared war on her. She shook her head, He handles her roughly, cold as hell to her.

Do you think Lita's problems are purely psychosomatic?

Shayla sighed with frustration, I honestly don't know. What I do know is, her condition is acute. She needs major hospitalization that we can't provide here. She paused, maintaining unblinking eye contact.

There's more? He received slight nods. Would you… care to share it with me?

The nurse cleared her throat. Well, umm… Lita is terrified.

Billy gently pulled the answers out of her, Of… what?

She is absolutely convinced that people are after her.

Abusive family? Pimp? Drug supplier? Sex traffic?

She gave him a slight shake of the head, … Space aliens.

Billy pinched the bridge of his nose, tensely rubbed his face for a few moments, then sighed. Great.

We did stabilize her with a glucose IV, but we can't keep doing that. Hospital is running low on supplies. She's in fragile condition, so you need to handle her gently. Shayla touched her hand to his chest, But Billy, be careful anyway. Don't let your guard down. With no radios, people are a lot more bold about attacking cops. We've already lost John Deekman. I don't want to lose you, too!

He declared with resolve, You won't.

Nurse Shayla caught herself as they began to leave, Oh, there's one more thing. There's a pendant. Lita is frantic about it.

Stapleton won't let her have it?

It's a 'choking hazard'. I'm not sure that he'll tell you about it.

I'm sure that the girl probably would.

She's… got some sort of speech impediment. Shayla shook her head, It doesn't make sense. She vocalizes very much like a deaf person who learned how to speak. But she can hear just fine.

Used to be deaf but had an operation?

I don't know. She has no obvious surgical scars, but we haven't had time to conduct thorough tests.

He nodded. All right, let's go get her.

Actually, let me take lead on this. I want you to see for yourself.

Very well. Just before leaving the kitchenette, Billy froze in his tracks. On the counter was an ornate serving plate. It was full of brownies.

Shayla laughed heartily, Go ahead, have one!

Taking the time to savor every bite, Billy's eyes rolled back, I can't remember the last time I had real food like this! Hazel?

She handed him a glass of water, Hazel.

According to plan, Nurse Simmons took Officer McConnell to an office and knocked on the door, Doctor Stapleton? Gibson PD is here to pick up patient Lita Smith. I'll go ahead and fetch her.

The man in the lab coat quickly stood up from his chair, No, Nurse. I'll handle this one personally. I need you to carry out checks in B-wing.

She made fleeting eye contact with Billy in passing, Yes, Doctor.

Remaining pleasantly casual, Billy shook hands. Nice to see you again, Doctor Stapleton. VIP service, Sir?

Well, let's just say that our patient needs to be handled carefully. My judgment is that she might have manipulated our lovely Nurse Simmons into a little too much sympathy. He pointed a finger, "You'll need to