Quest Log

By Dallas Woodward

Ensign Peters didn't sign up for the end of the world.  But when the ash starts falling and the lights go out, she and the watchteam of Joint Training Command are faced with a stark reality: a city starving, a war on their doorstep, and an enemy who doesn't follow any of the rules from the movies.  The Heirs Apparent are determined to make this new world theirs, and what they lack in firepower, they make up for in terrifying creativity. 

To meet this foe, Peters will have to train a team of the Navy's finest magicians.  Make that its only team, most of them as poorly qualified for the job as herself.  With fire, lightning, and good ol' lead, they'll match wits with an enemy so prophetic they might have one foot in the future already.  Their battlefield is a city of petty kingdoms, scheming cultists, and gator-infested swamps, where to falter is to die... though even death isn't so final.

And then there's the hurricane.  Talk about a time limit...

 

~

Quest Log is a work of urban science fiction with a predominantly military cast, though most have never handled a gun outside boot camp at Great Lakes.  You'll find no Rambos among its pages: only a tightly knit team of junior sailors, officers, and a few chiefs determined to keep the world from going more ass-up than it already is.  It is dedicated firstly to the students of Naval Nuclear Power Training Command, who convinced me victory is as inevitable as your will to seize it, and secondly to military trainees everywhere, who kept their eyes open through powerpoints that would have felled many a weaker-willed man or woman.  

Hooyah.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dallas Woodward
• Release date: Sep 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393980261

Book preview

Quest Log

By D. Woodward

Rev 4, SEP20

––––––––

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Part 2

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Part 3

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Part 1

Chapter 1

I was on duty the night the world ended.

It was the rumbling that got me.  I studied the underside of the bunk above mine, barely visible in the orange-tinged light filtering through the heavy curtains.  I couldn’t remember ever falling asleep.

Earthquake, I thought, and immediately drifted off again.

When I awoke the second time, it was to the incessant chirp of an alarm.  I groaned, fumbled around near the edge of the bunk with half-dead fingers until I located the source of the noise.  I am not a morning person.  Especially when morning comes at...

The phone’s blue face read 22:45.  That wasn’t the alarm.  Someone was calling me.  I flipped the old dinosaur open, put my ear to the receiver.

Hello?

A voice, teetering on the raw edge of a knife called panic: Peters?  Peters, god, we thought you were dead!  Wh-what’s happening out there?

Huh?  Nothing.  I turned my head, yawned into the blanket.  My other hand wandered up to rub my eyes.  Wha’ is it?

"Peters, I... I need you to check the barracks.  Check on the students.  Make sure the students are okay.  Then... then call me back, okay?"

Who is it? I asked.

Dammit, Peters, it’s Lieutenant Delany!  Report back when you’re finished!

The call clicked off.  Rude; he hadn’t even said goodbye.  I lay there a few moments more, wiping what felt like a lifetime’s worth of grime from my eyes.  A little green light flashed in the distance: a smoke detector, I thought, making the usual report.

... what’s his problem?

I checked the phone’s display.  Twelve missed calls, going back to 22:07.  What had been so damn important?  Why had no one come to get me?

My uniform was in the closet.  I shrugged into my khakis, left the shirt-stays lying in a heap in one corner where I had tossed them with a relieved sigh only hours before.  My keys were still in my pants pocket.  My badge, the same.  I found my cover on the nightstand, checked my reflection briefly in the mirror at the far end of the one-room apartment.  My hair spiked to one side where I’d been nuzzling the pillow, but it was short enough that, with a little pampering, the effect almost looked intentional.  I turned my head from side to side, considering the result.

Jesus, I looked like death.

It was curiously bright outside.  I stared into the orange glow of the nearest sodium bulb, caught in its ghastly trap as surely as a moth.  It had been raining the day before, and the grass beside the concrete path was a sea of damp reflections.  An old, discolored traffic cone jutted crookedly from the mouth of a nearby sinkhole, voicing silent warning to passersby to mind their footing.

I turned left, and found a gaggle of young men in t-shirts and loose-fitting pajama bottoms milling about near the entrance to the lounge area, maybe fifteen yards away.  They were all staring northward, some pointing.  I followed their fingers, made out a bleary kind of light from that direction. 

What’s going on? I asked.  A few of them turned, gawked openly at me.  I frowned, tried again, louder: Hey, what are you...?

I stopped.  Rubbed my eyes.  Checked it again.  To the north, the sky was red and bloody as an open wound across the belly of heaven, the gash glowing with the muted intensity of an outbound sunset.  The light came from below, fueled by the darkness there.

The forest was burning. 

The earth was burning.

I stood there for what might have been a minute, mouth agape, one hand half-raised to shield my eyes.  A few students had turned my way, though what answers they expected from me, I couldn’t say.  I drew a breath.  I-is everyone okay here?!

Yes, ma’am! one shouted back.  I picked them out of the crowd.

Go to East Hall, I told them.  Make sure everyone is safe.  You, go with him.  You two!  Go to Fisher Hall!  By now the throng had come alive, alert for instruction.  Everyone else, back to your rooms!  Section leaders, wait to... wait to be contacted!

Slowly, painstakingly, the crowd dispersed, all eyes trying to look the other way while their owners bumped awkwardly into one another.  Few would go back to their rooms.  Most would head to the upper decks, to gauge what they could see from higher up.  I couldn’t blame them.  I wanted a better shot of whatever it was, too.

My phone came to life as I was crossing the wooden footbridge to Fisher Hall.

Y-yeah?  I shivered.  It was November, and while the weather was usually mild, the day’s rains had left a chill in the air to complement the blood in the sky.  Officer of the Day.

Ensign Peters, it’s Chief Bluegrass.  You at Gold Hall?

I was.  I looked back to the north, suppressed a very different sort of shiver.  Chief, what’s going on?  There’s this... crazy light outside.

We’re working on that.  Only word so far is... Christ, we think it’s the Weapons Station.  Something let loose over there, but we’re not sure...

A pause.  There was smothered conversation on the other end of the line, too muted to make out.  I heard someone swear, but couldn’t catch the purpose of it.

Bluegrass again: It... shit, it might not be just the Weapons Station.  What’s the situation out there?

Gold Hall’s undamaged, I reported.  "And what do you mean it’s not ‘just’ the Weapons Station?  How many other ammo dumps are there around here?"

You’ll know more than we do, ma’am.  Here’s the CDO.

Peters?  It’s Delany; have you been to Fisher yet?

I started walking again.  I’m on my way.  Lieutenant, what’s going on?

We don’t know.  We think... Chief says it might be Dev.  Don’t say anything to the students, but keep an eye out.

Dev?  My mind was opening files too fast to read.  "What does Dev have to do with...?"

The siren kicked on before I could finish the thought.  It rose like the wail of distant banshees, emanating from the direction of the school building.  Within minutes, the nearby barracks would begin to belch a steady stream of students, bound for predetermined muster points.  The forerunners were already leaking onto the path.

Delany: That’s the alarm.  Check Fisher then, uh, meet me at the flagpole.  The one out front.  I wanna talk to you in person.

The call ended.  Fisher Hall was still standing, its occupants as scared and curious as their counterparts in Gold, but otherwise unharmed.  That done, I circled around the school building, following a line of cracked cement that would take me past the parking lot.  I saw the glow again, and barely registered it was coming from the wrong direction.  When the first flames came into view, I almost kept going.

Then the heat.  And the smell.

God...

The lot where the students parked was a bed of simmering coals.  What had been cars and trucks the day before were two-ton bonfires, blackened frames sporting melted plastic and beds of red heat that cast dark smoke.  There were people there already: students, mostly, cut off from their evacuation route by the field of wreckage.  They wanted to know what was happening.  I directed them to a muster point nearby, told them I was still figuring it out.

Ma’am, are we under attack?

Attack.  Maybe it was my exhaustion slowing me down, but the idea hadn’t even occurred to me.  It made sense, but attacked by who?  There were candidates, sure, but none I’d ever taken seriously. 

Of course, the lieutenant had mentioned Dev...

Sit tight, I told him.  You’ll know more when we do.

The flagpole rose from a circle of paving stones atop a low bank of earth, its normal pride-of-place vacant for the night.  Delany was there, and Bluegrass, and a few others from the security office.  The night sky bathed everyone in a red-orange light.  The Command Duty Officer looked about as pale as he could manage.  Just now he was checking his phone, waiting on messages yet received. 

He saw me coming.  Peters!

Lieutenant, the cars!  What happened to all the...?

He shook his head.  Later.  Are the students okay?

The ones I saw.  I came to a stop before the group.  The others were on their phones too, coordinating with other staff on and off base.  Gold Hall’s in one piece.  Fisher, too.  I didn’t see any more fires but the one in the parking lot.

And whatever’s happening at the Weapons Station, said Bluegrass.  He was our Duty Chief for the night: a twelve year veteran with the silver dolphins of a submariner.  He looked north, examining that swath of rosy violence.  It shook the whole base.  Never felt anything like it.

Like an earthquake, I said.

He nodded.  Yeah.  Or a warhead.

You think we’re under attack?

"I think we all know what’s happening here.  At this point, everything else is optimism."

Delany’s phone suddenly rang.  The others instantly went quiet.  He stared at the screen.

It’s... Commander Springfield.

The captain never picked up?

Answer it, said Bluegrass.

The lieutenant drew a breath.  Ma’am, this is the CDO.  The fire alarm’s been triggered; we’re gathering the students at the...  A pause to listen.  N-no, none of the barracks are burning.  The school?  He turned.  We all reflexively did the same.  "No, not the school either.  It’s mostly the... yes, ma’am.  Yes.  We called the station, but all the lines were... no, we haven’t checked the... yes, ma’am.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes, all the cars are burning.  Not just ours.  And there’s a... yes, ma’am.  Yes.  I understand.  I’ll tell them."

He pulled the phone away, continued to stare at it.  The others passed looks.

Finally: Sir?

It’s... not just the Weapons Station.  Delany licked his lips.  "She says... she says it’s the whole state.  Everything’s burning.  The skies are red all over."

What happened? I asked.  Is it really...?

It’s Dev.  Dev did this.  He looked up from the phone, considered us blankly.  Dev’s killed us.

There was silence.  A first class turned to the nearest chief, who looked to one of the masters-at-arms, who only closed his eyes.  Nothing was said.  The sky shone down on us with humorless intent, too bright for stars... and not a word could be found. 

Then Bluegrass snorted.

"Well I’m not dead yet.  What do we do?  Did the commander say?"

Delany blinked, seemed to find himself.  She... there won’t be any evacuation.  We have nowhere to go, and no way to get there.  The plan’s to hunker down here until someone shows up.

So someone’s coming, said the Junior Officer of the Day.

She... doesn’t know.

The others responded all at once.  "You mean we’re stuck?  We’ve got twelve hundred students!  How are we supposed to feed them?"

There’s food in the galley.  And... hurricane rations.  That buys us a couple weeks.

And what about water?  The power’s gonna go out soon, and I’m not drinking out of the swamp.

What a damn shit show.  We need to get out of here.  Make for another base or...

Bluegrass: You going to force-march a thousand teenagers two hundred miles?  With the whole country on fire?  He looked to Delany, then to me.  His voice rose: "No one’s going anywhere.  Maybe you all forgot, but we’re on duty until our relief shows up or the captain orders us home, and last I knew, the captain isn’t answering.  Yeah, maybe it’s a shit show, but right now, it’s our shit show.  And if we can’t get it together, what do we expect the students to do?"

There were grumbles.  Looks.  Tokens of resentment, helpless in the face of the words they didn’t want to hear.  True words.  One man lowered his head, stewing silently in his rage.  His helplessness.  My heart went out to him, truly... but I was still coming to terms with reality.

So... what happened, exactly?

I was on duty the night the world ended.  For many, the suffering was already over.

But my watch had scarcely begun.

Chapter 2

He came over the radio.

Uh, hello?  Everyone hear me?  I need you all to listen, so... just stop what you’re doing and pay attention, alright?  This is important.

No one knew what to make of Dev.  He came from nowhere: a voice on the radio, stammering, uncertain, promising change no one knew they wanted.  At first, we wrote him off.  Just another attention-seeker with a computer, looking to make the news before he was ushered off by the next big political scandal. 

Or so we thought.  Then the icons appeared above our heads, and marked us all in neon.  We... learned to pay attention after that.

This world was... not supposed to go on this long.  We sort of forgot about it.  Don’t ask me how it happened, I wasn’t the one... actually, never mind, forget that.  The important thing is, we’re back!  And we have some... uh, changes.  Yes.  Changes.

From there, it was one update after another.  People complained that war was dangerous, so Dev nerfed the guns.  People said death was too final, so Dev brought the dead back to life.  Only for a few hours, but after a show like that, no one argued we weren’t dealing with the genuine article.  We had a god in our midst, and no real clue of what to do about him.  There were calls for friendship and war, for cold shoulders and enriching schemes.  The schism quickly proved as religious as it was political, with lines dividing social groups at every level.  Going into the November elections, it was practically on the ballot. 

The cults didn’t wait for anyone’s permission.  Within months there were Devists and Devites and every other variation of the name, half of them acting off charters they probably printed off the internet.  A few managed to make the news when they commandeered old buildings for churches or went crazy on some tropical resort, but mostly they were small, homegrown movements, easily ignored outside the forums and meeting rooms where they staked their claims.

Listen, I don’t mean to pry or anything, but I was going over the run data from the last few eons and I noticed some things that could be improved. A lot of things, actually; we’re all a bit surprised you’re still alive.

Then he came.  The October Apostle.  A Returned who had wandered back to life with knowledge of what exactly was waiting for humanity on the far side.  He managed only a single sermon, spread across six continuous hours of video, but its message would live on long after it was pulled from the webs of a hundred countries.  Too volatile, people said.  Too obscene.

Too late. 

The cults rallied, and what were a thousand sects across the nation became three, only distinguishable by the names they chose to garb their new movement.  For us on the east coast, it was the Church of the October Apostle that came to dominate the headlines, and if their message was controversial, it was mercifully straightforward.  Humanity had to choose: the way of Dev and change, or persist without, and grow stagnant.

Such was the state of our country moving into the elections.  Dev put out updates, and the world squabbled and jerked its knees over the details.  He gave us stats, and classes, and even a few miracles, and in exchange his cults fattened from coast to coast.  We might have gone on like that for years... right up until Dev decided he liked humanity like most of us do a good burger.

So yeah!  Updates!  Look forward to it!

~~~

Realization struck as we were mustering the students from East Hall.

Shit!  I forgot about Don!

Hey, pay attention to where you’re going!

It was forty minutes before I pried myself away.  The red in the sky was even more pronounced; it had bled into the very essence of the clouds, lending them all the bloated corpulence of something used to feeding on carrion.  Glimpsed from the corner of your eye, it was hard to ignore the idea they were waiting to descend and feast upon the unwary. 

Those clouds were still watching as I hurried over the footbridge to Fisher.  A few watchstanders passed me going the other way, recovering their countenance just in time to offer a pair of hasty salutes.  I returned the greeting diligently, only distantly aware of anything beyond my destination.  My door was on the first floor.

Don!  I pounded my fist against the portal.  Don, wake up!

I paused, listened, found only silence lurking on the far side.  Was he already gone?  Damn, of course he was gone; the building had been evacuated for the fire alarm.

He wasn’t with the students.  Did he muster in the staff lot?  But he would have known that was wrong when he showed up and there was no one else there.  Then where...?

My phone chirped.  I cursed, fumbled with the velcro on the sheath.

I-it’s Peters.

Peters, it’s the CDO.  Do you have the muster reports?

Two of them.  Petty Officer Nickel’s got Gold Hall.

I already talked to him.  Can you come to the school building?  There’s something... there’s something you need to see for yourself.

I nodded, though no one saw it.  Right.  Uh, have you seen Don?  Ensign Folliero?

Your U/I?  Did you check his room?

I told him I had.

He’ll turn up.  Um, probably.  Meet me in the security office.

I looked back at the door, assuring myself it hid no more secrets than the obvious.  I’ll be there.

By now the clouds had moved in across the moon.  I could see it somewhere above and south of me: a spot of brighter red on the edge of a shadowed mass fading into black.  It almost looked like rain.  It would storm at a time like this.  The weather here was nothing if not opportunist.  My mind pondered the idea of rain as red as the sky, but disregarded it straightaway.  That was only a step away from blood, and one biblical disaster per day was enough to sate anyone.

Lieutenant Delany was waiting for me in the security office.  Petty Officer Nickel was there, and Chief Bluegrass, and our Command Master-At-Arms, Chief Yui.  I was the only female in the room, though that had stopped surprising me a long time ago.

It was three hours after midnight.  Five hours into what we would later call the apocalypse.

Delany began: The muster reports?

Four hundred sixteen from Gold Hall, said Nickel.  Thirty-eight missing.  The other students say most of them were in town.  We contacted twelve of them; the rest aren’t answering.

A nod.  Peters?

Four hundred nine from Fisher.  Three hundred ninety-five from East.  Eighty-one missing, but we know there are nine at the burger place on the other side of base.  We had them on the phone earlier.

What did they say?

Same things we already know.  That all the cars are burning, and there’s fire in the forest between us and the Weapons Station.  They’re hunkered down there; I didn’t know what to tell them.

Rather be there than here, said Yui, dryly.  I could use a cheeseburger about now.  He ran the numbers through his head.  That’s eight, twelve, twenty-five... twelve hundred and twenty students on hand, with more than a hundred missing or away from their barracks.  There’s about two hundred more living in town or base housing; what’s the word on them?

Bluegrass: We have their information.  I don’t think anyone’s contacted them yet.

Delany scribbled something in his notebook.  Uh, Petty Officer Nickel, I want you to get started on that.  Get some students from grad hold to help.  He looked to Bluegrass.  What about the school building?

There were over a hundred and eighty people logged into the building at 2200, the chief reported.  Most of those were enlisted students.  That leaves fifty staff and other officers.  One of those was a commander.  He’s with his class now, but he wants to know what we’re doing to get in contact with the captain.

Probably thinks he’s in charge now, Yui noticed.  We should bring him into the loop before he throws a fit.

What’s his name?

Shorn.  From the Wisconsin.

I’ll talk to him, said Delany.  He looked to the clock.  Duty section three musters in two hours.  Chief Bluegrass, make sure the officers have a place to sleep in the barracks. Chief Yui, coordinate with the ground crew; we need a way to fight that fire if it comes south.  Ensign Peters, stick around.  I still need to get you up to speed.

The others filed out, leaving one of the masters-at-arms to man the emergency line.  Delany got on the external computer.

Have you seen the news yet?

My tablet was in my car.  Some students showed me an article, though.  I shook my head.  I don’t get it.  Why would Dev do this?

You think he needs a reason anymore?  He brought up a webpage.  Here’s a good article.  I don’t normally use this site, but it’s got a good breakdown.

I skimmed.  Devastation sweeps the globe.  Disaster struck late last night, with explosions reported around the world...  Highways have become graveyards, littered with the wrecks of vehicles...  Fires rage through cities where parking garages have become infernos, spreading to adjacent structures.

There were pictures.  Amateur videos.  One played automatically as I scrolled down.

Oh my god.

He hit everything that combusts or detonates.  If it had a warhead or a motor, it’s toast.

I had a horrible thought.  Nukes?

I don’t know.  Maybe.  But if he got the nukes, we wouldn’t be here, right?  And there’d be something about it on the news by now.

I found the bottom of the article, the names of the journalists underlined by an ad for protein powder.  But something was missing.  So... how do they know it’s Dev?  I mean, I don’t think...

Check PatchNotes.

I quickly navigated over to Dev’s homepage.  The familiar greeting popped up:

Welcome to PatchNotes, your go-to portal for all future updates!  My name is Dev, and I am so happy to be able to share this experience with all of you!

The tabs at the top of the page read Home, Profile, Feedback, and PatchNotes.  I went for the fourth, resisting the urge to see Delany’s stats.  Here were all Dev’s updates, arranged sequentially back to the very first.  I’d browsed this list more than once, back before the mysterious broadcaster won the ire of the government and his site made its way onto the usual blacklist.  Strangely enough, it had never been firewalled.  Maybe no one knew how.

And there it is.  God, but it’s not even at the top.  ‘Adjusted wind currents over the Arctic to spawn more cumulonimbus clouds.’  You’d think you’d just call it a day after roasting half the world...

Delany: Satisfied?

Not... the word I’d use.

He nodded.  "I’m going to write up my report.  In the meantime, you need to get started on the logs."

Hmm?  I was still reading.  Something about the gestation in certain birds to prevent overpopulation.  It took a few seconds for the idea to take hold.  "Wait, seriously?"

You’re Officer of the Day.  Updating the logs is part of your job.

But... I tried to logic up an excuse, found none waiting.  Where do I even start?  At twenty-two hundred the world caught fire.  CDO notified.

It’s a log.  Just... write things down in the order they happened.  I’ll lend you my notebook; you can use that to fill in some gaps.  He paused, seemed to remember something.  Oh, and there’s no telling how long we’ll have power.  Chief says we’re better off taking logs by hand for now.

"Paper logs?"

It’s not that bad.  The watchstanders always take logs by hand.  You’ll be fine.  He passed me his notebook.  It’s all there.  Mostly.  Talk with the others if you find any holes.

I took the pad, flipped through the first few pages.  The lieutenant wrote in a small, cramped style, not always coordinated with the lines on the page.  Notes appeared to have been jotted down with whatever utensil came to hand first, their messages tied up in some barely decipherable shorthand.  I blew out a breath.  Delany must have sensed my skepticism.

I’m counting on you, Peters.  Everyone has a part to play here.

I know, I said.  Just wish mine was a little less ‘secretary’, is all.

~~~

I staggered up the steps to the second deck, feeling every hour of lost sleep as pointedly as if it had been fashioned into a knife.  A distant bell echoed through the school building, tolling the start of the day.  I was already running through my lessons before I remembered Delany had canceled classes.

There’s a bright side, at least.  No homework.

The morning turnover had gone as chaotically as expected.  The oncoming student duty section was as restless as it was exhausted, and full of more questions than we could possibly answer.  In the end, Chief Bluegrass had shouted down the worst of the offenders, promising the ‘bonus’ of extra duties as needed.  I’d stood by through the whole ordeal, and considered it quite an achievement I hadn’t nodded off midway.  Now I needed coffee. 

There was no sign of anyone in the hall as I left the stairwell.  I moved to the nearest vending machines, filled a styrofoam cup with something hot and black that smelled about as burnt as it looked.  I cradled it lovingly in one hand, my new logbook clutched under my other arm.  Then I must have blacked out, because next thing I knew, my feet had carried me to the office.  I angled my key at the lock, missed, hit the latch with my hand by mistake.  It opened easily. 

I sighed.  Security violation...

"—like charcoal.  You don’t see things like that.  Not here."

I saw the face before I could process the words.  Don!

The speaker perked, looked up.  Ensign Folliero was just as I had left him the night before.  He even wore his yellow badge, indicating him as an OOD Under Instruction.  Surprise flashed across his face at the sight of me, fell quickly into the softer lines of relief.

Ensign Peters!  You’re alive!

Alive?  I stepped into the room.  "Why wouldn’t I be alive?  And where the hell have you been?  You missed turnover!"

His relief fled.  Uh...

Peters?  The room’s other resident grabbed my attention.  Ensign Bati’s surprise might have barely outclassed my own.  O’my’god, Peters!

"Nadia?  Why are you here?!"

My qualification exam!  She smiled, tried to laugh.  The sound didn’t come out quite right.  I came in after work to study.  And then... well...

Well that explains what she’s wearing...  What are you doing up here?  Both of you.  Staff were supposed to muster downstairs a half-hour ago!

They passed looks.  Don ran a hand through his hair, paused midway.  Well... Nadia left her khakis at home, and she thought Chief Bluegrass would be mad...

"You don’t think he maybe has bigger things to worry about?  And Don, you... dammit, I looked for you.  Why didn’t you look for me after the alarm went off?"

His expression fell further.  That’s... um...

I sighed, crossed to my desk near the window.  The office was on the south side of the building, overlooking the staff lot and the river beyond.  I noted reflections of lighter red among the darker crimson in the sky: feelers of dawn, testing the waters before the main event.  The others looking on, I settled into my seat, threw down the logbook.  It was, as of yet, devoid of entries.  A blank slate, ready to accommodate my record of the world.

I drank deep of that bitter cup, steeling myself for the task.

2200: Rumbling heard outside school building.  Vehicles in both staff and student parking lots found incinerated.  No apparent cause.  CDO notified.  CO could not be reached by phone.  Fire department could not be reached by phone.

2300: Fire alarm activated by detectors at exterior checkpoints.  Fire is burning through the Weapons Station north of the school building. Students mustered.  XO contacted.

2400: Watch and logs carried over to those dated 13 NOV.  No further entries this date. 

0000: Watch and logs continued from those dated 12 NOV.  Watch manned by LTJG Delany as CDO.  JB is currently at FPCON Delta.  Noted discrepancies include total damage to vehicles in both staff and student lots, fire in the forest north of the school building.  CO could not be reached by phone.  Fire department could not be reached by phone.

0300: Dev confirmed as source of destruction to base.  Motives unclear.  Three hundred twenty-seven enlisted students away from base.  XO contacted.  CO could not be reached by phone.

I set the pen down, sipped again.  Delany had raised the all-alert to its highest level the previous night, though at this point, no one knew if Dev intended a follow-up.  I was still debating whether there was anything worth saying about muster when Nadia caught my attention.  She had been watching me, but now her gaze had shifted upwards.  To the window.

Is it... snowing?

I frowned, followed her gaze.  Proper day was breaking over the world.  The deep scarlet of the night sky had retreated into the cover of the clouds, revealing wide swathes of pink like undercooked meat.  Sure enough, fat flakes drifted down past the window, borne diagonally by the breeze kicked up by the forest.  Further out, they swirled on the updrafts of burning cars, playing freely among the smoke columns.

It does look like snow.  A few flakes settled on the windowsill.  But the color...

It’s ash, I realized.  "Hell, it’s snowing ash."

Don swallowed.  You mean...?

The lights flickered, died.  The sky cast a reddish glow through the lone window, bathing the three of us in its violence.  Behind us, our shadows were twisted murderers stretching into the half-dark of the office, gathered close in spectral conference.  The dark lasted only a few seconds.  Then the emergency lights kicked on, setting the room awash in harsh, scattered white.

I reached out, placed my palm flat against my reflection’s.  The soot was already starting to cake.

"I guess leaving’s really off the table now..."

Chapter 3

Imagine how seductive it is to panic.  To forfeit the heavy burdens of reason and optimism and give in completely to your primal instincts.  To run, to hide, to fight.  To curl up in a ball and sob in some protective corner until the danger has passed and the spring sun melts the winter snow.

And if you can manage not to do that, while simultaneously reassuring over a thousand other people... well congratulations.  You know what it’s like to be OOD at the end of the world.

How long do you think it can keep up?

There’s a lot of trees around here, Bluegrass noticed.  Could be burning for a long time.

A power outage and a grey snowstorm did predictably little to remedy the egregious levels of ‘fucked up’ in our current situation.  A few choice words were drummed up for the occasion, the choicest of which would make a master chief blush.  Our first priority was, of course, the students.  With school off the books for the foreseeable future, most had seemed perfectly content to hole up in their barracks and monitor the situation through the blue glow of their smartphones.  Not a bad idea.  Given the option, I’d have done the same.  But with the power out, Delany had made the call to let the three barracks go dark, reserving energy for the galley.  There was enough food there and in the shelters to ration across eight days, though that number fell to five if we couldn’t keep the freezers running until they were cleared out.  Granted, we would all be missing our showers before the end of the week, but water was another thing we couldn’t afford to waste.

Rationing.  I thought that was only for wars...

We weren’t entirely out on our asses.  We still had the backup generators—mysteriously undamaged, for reasons that would need pondering later—and fuel enough to run the school at some modicum of power for six days.  Chief Yui thought we could get that up to ten.  For vehicles—not counting the toasty ones—we had five electric golf carts, used mostly by the ground crew to transport equipment.  Nothing else had survived.  Dev had even fried our lawnmowers. 

As for personnel... well, manning hadn’t improved with the end-times.  There were twelve of us on duty the night things went to shit, plus seven more unlucky enough to be caught on base.  Them, plus our thirty-eight officer students, made up the bulk of our new, bootleg command structure, the lower branches patched with section leaders and student masters-at-arms.  As Officer of the Day, I had authority over most of them, though I had little enough idea what to do with it.

Maybe that was why Delany had given me this mission.  To build my confidence.  Or maybe everyone else had better things to do, and I was the only one he could spare. 

I hacked into my mask.  Whichever the case, it would be a miracle if I wasn’t coughing up blood by the end of the day.

Ma’am, are you alright?

Been better...

We were on the edge of the road, headed west along the southern bank of the river.  It would have been faster to take the trail through the forest, but the smoke had grown so thick in the north it was a wonder we hadn’t seen the naked flames yet.  I had forty students with me, all from the senior end of the pipeline.  A pair of golf carts rolled with us, sporting a mobile generator apiece and fuel to burn for two days.

We made quite the convoy.

"You want me to lead a mission?"

That’s what we’re calling it, Delany had said. "You’re just escorting some students to the commissary.  YN2 Mohr will be with you; she’ll handle everything once you’re there."

But my doubts wouldn’t be assuaged so easily.  Is this... legal?

The world blew up, Peters.  We’re doing what we have to.

So short answer... no.

There was a half-inch of ash on the road already, moving in ripples where the wind swept along the edge of the trees.  Fresh soot fell steadily as we pushed through, sticking to boots and uniforms and the outsides of the paper masks we’d collected from the recesses of the hurricane shelter.  We passed a few vehicles along the way, some smoldering in turn lanes, others belly-up along one bank or the other.  There were bodies in a few.  We investigated where we could, but found no one alive.

... mostly no one.

I didn’t think it would be this bad, someone said.

It’s the end of the world, man.  What were you expecting?

I don’t know.  It’s just... quiet.  Like there was never any...

Just then a bird called, its voice thunderous even across the thick muffle of distance.  Immediately every head swiveled.  I thought I saw a few students jump, shocked at the sound.  We waited, and watched, but nothing came of it.  Had that smoke always been so close, or were my eyes playing tricks on me?

K-keep moving, I called back.  We’re too... exposed.  Shouldn’t linger long.

They listened.  Not all at once, but eventually.  The last one to follow was still staring at the forest, caught in some silent observation of the trees across the river.  I found myself glancing that way too, and for a moment, thought I detected movement among the trunks.

Keep moving, I repeated, too quietly for anyone else.  Can’t stop now...

We veered down a road about a mile from the school, leaving footprints for the carts to follow.  The commissary lay on the other side of a lot peppered with wreckage, the worst of the flames since smothered by soot.  It was a wide, low building, the size of a supermarket, with the rise of a warehouse visible on the far side.  Inside, we’d find food.  A treasure of it.  Chief Bluegrass guessed there was enough in storage to take us up to thirty days, though that number deflated as the stock had time to thaw.  Delany was more optimistic, but admitted he needed more information.

Me, I had my own set of numbers to contend with.

Thirteen.  We have thirteen hundred people.  That’s two million calories a day, at minimum.  A month is a stretch, but there’s no telling how long the power will be out, and even less telling how long before anyone shows up with food.  I considered the building, its entrance flanked by palm trees, its roof backed by the red underbellies of blood-soaked clouds.  A nearby trailer sat behind a blackened husk of a cab, its faded logo bearing a promise of packaged sweets.  We need to make this place ours.  It’s the best shot we have at surviving until help arrives.

What’re you thinking, ma’am?  You see something?

I indicated the few cars in the low.  "There’s people here.  They could complicate things, if they take this the wrong way."

If it comes to that, we’ll take care of them, ma’am.

I nodded.  Great.  A cowboy.  Alright.  How about we tackle our entrance first.

~~~

We pried open the automatic doors, slipping through single-file.  Inside, things were dark.  A table to our right bore flyers and a few hundred copies of the base newspaper, still boasting the success of the last command blood drive.  A cart, still loaded, stood a solitary watch near the entrance.

It was as ghostly a scene as one could expect.

Hello?  Anyone?  I advanced ahead, scanning the aisles for life.  I made it as far as produce, then waved the students up.  Petty Officer Olive was the oldest: a slight man of twenty-four who seemed confident enough.  I addressed him as if he were my second.  "Post four people by the door.  Two more come with me.  The rest offload the generators.  We need those freezers running."

Right away, ma’am.

Olive overseeing, the students leapt into motion, one group moving to secure the power while another returned to the carts.  I observed a bit, then grabbed YN2 and a pair of likely candidates to seek out the office.  From the entrance, we moved past lines of vacant check-out counters, some still populated with the remains of abandoned shopping trips.  It had been two days since Dev fried our cars and melted our skies, but looking upon those frozen scenes, it might have only been minutes.

Something smells, said YN2 Mohr.

"Something’s spoiled, I corrected.  We need to work fast."

The manager’s office was locked when we found it.  We had better luck in the employee lounge.  Five people had set up a kind of camp there, the common space crowded with cardboard beds and empty soup cans.  Four were playing cards around the lone table as we arrived.  One leapt up.

Thank god, we’re saved!

Are you in charge? I asked.

No one was, apparently.  Three were employees, and none of them the shift manager.  They claimed he was in the back.  I told one to show us, followed him past shelves stocked with bread and hamburger buns.  Those were something our generators wouldn’t save, not unless we crammed it into the freezers.

So did y’all... walk here?

More or less, I said.  We’re from the school.

The clerk glanced at the students.They wore camo working uniforms, same as everyone else in the duty section but me and YN2.  "Not the high school, I guess.  Hey, do y’all report to the president?  Have you heard from him?  Are we at war?"

Only with Dev...

We weren’t the first to find the manager.  The other watchstanders had arrived already, looking for somewhere to offload their cargo.  He was a big fellow, with a triumph of a beard and a wide swath of belly that stretched the confines of his button-up shirt.  His glowing icon marked him as ‘Jeb the Helpful’, though I suspected some corporate influence there.

You in charge? he asked me.  He had a rich voice, deep to match his size.

I told him I was.

I appreciate you showing up like this.  We got six million dollars in inventory here, and half of it fit to spoil if we don’t get it on ice.  You’re a lifesaver.

Right.  Uh, yeoman?

YN2 Mohr presented him with a stack of papers, bound by a single study paper clip.  Jeb looked them over briefly, a frown crinkling his mustache.

This is...?

A Memorandum of Understanding, Mohr said.  It states that in exchange for protection and maintaining power to the commissary, we will have access to all necessary foodstuffs until we’ve established an alternate supply.  All withdrawals will be logged and, once this disaster has passed, your business will be compensated.

Sounds very... err, official. He flipped through the sheets.  I don’t think anyone could help but notice our ‘memorandum’ had been penned on the fronts and backs of so many sheets of lined paper, still rough at the edges where the yeoman had torn it from a notebook.  Do I need to...?

YN2 offered him a pen.  Jeb shook his head, took it.

Don’t see how I have any choice.  Wasn’t gonna eat it all anyways...

He was still initialing and dating to Mohr’s satisfaction when an alarm went up from the front of the store.  Olive perked, hurried off with two students in pursuit.  I left the yeoman to her business, followed.  By then the duty section was crowded around the door, mumbling to one another and looking generally indecisive. 

What’s going on?

Th-they’re... outside.  They wanted us to let them in, but...

Let me see.

There were four people at the door.  They were all decked out in ponchos and gas masks, two wielding umbrellas against the windborne soot.  Another carried a shotgun.  Dev had done something to firearms—for balance, he said—but for all that pistols and rifles had suffered horribly, the humble shotgun was undiminished in its ability to terrify.  I eyed its master uncertainly, trying to judge his thoughts.

If they fire that thing, it’d shatter the glass and me.  And who would manage the logs then?

One figure stepped forward.

You’re different from these others.  Her voice was muted by mask and glass.  I found myself leaning in to hear.  Are you claiming this place?

That’s a way to put it.  We’ve signed an agreement, I said, conveniently leaving out that it was still in progress.  If you need food, you can contact our CDO and we’ll...

One of the strangers interrupted.  "We won’t be privy to any trade with the government.  We’ve severed those ties.  Are you claiming this place?"

Persistent.  This building’s under our protection, if that’s what you’re getting at.  If you don’t wanna deal with us, go somewhere else.  There’s another store about a mile from here.

We’ve already claimed that space, one of them said.  I couldn’t tell who.  Warn your commanders; they won’t find any friends there.

... yeah?  Delany’ll wanna hear about this.  And who can I tell them owns it now?

Friends of a greater power, said one.

We are your enemies, said another, and your successors.  Those chosen by Dev to inherit the world on the other side of Greydown.  Two of the group peeled away, leaving just her and the man with the shotgun.  There need not be war between us yet, but be warned, if your masters intend to make us their slaves, we have power beyond yours.  Give them that message; there will be no other warning.

With that, she and her companion fell back, their boots working up the disturbed soot.  It was a moment before anyone saw what the others had been up to.

Hey!  They’re stealing one of the carts!

Who has the keys?

They’re, uh...

Shit, get after them!

A few students moved to the door, but hesitated when I didn’t clear the way.  I watched the party hijack one of our rides, saw them circle once, then buzz across the lot and onto the road, deftly avoiding the wreckage.  Already the ash was settling into their tracks.  Another hour and we wouldn’t be able to follow if we wanted to.

Yeah, this is definitely going in the report...

A voice: Err... ma’am?  Aren’t we... going after them?

Hmm?  I looked back at the speaker, realized only then I was blocking the exit.  Something hot rose into my face beneath the mask.  ... oh.  I, uh, don’t think there was anything we could have done.  Best not to... best not to linger on it.

A few of them frowned, looked to Olive.  Slowly, he nodded.

Aye, ma’am.  Nothing we could have done.

Smart.  I’d have to keep a close eye on this cowboy.

~~~

The lieutenant scratched the edge of his nose.  He’d been quiet through my report so far: thoughtful at times, concerned at others.  As I finished, he drew a pattern across the surface of his desk with one finger, tracing a scatter of marks that had been there half as long as the thing itself.

So who were they? he said at last.

I dunno.  Devists, probably.  They mentioned him, said he’d chosen them to ‘inherit the world’.  Doesn’t get more condemning than that.

Delany nodded absently, his expression distant.  There was a bloody nick on his neck where his razor had uncovered a bump.  With the power out and the water under heavy ration until further notice, it was dry shaves for everyone.

Okay.  So they’re cultists.  Did they say anything else?

They talked about the other store.  The one on Blackbell, near the post office?  I think they’ve already set up shop there.

That was supposed to be our emergency supply.  You think we could take it from them?

Err, maybe.  They had a gun.  They might have more.

We’ve got guns too.  They said they were our enemies; we might be better off getting rid of them now, before they dip too much into the supply.

I frowned.  "I-isn’t it a little early to be declaring war?"

He had to think about it.  Yeah, you... you might be right.

Our run-in with the cart-thieves aside, things had gone better than expected.  The commissary was every bit the treasure we had hoped for, complete with meat, produce, and a