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_Daily Station Report _

RRMP no. 568

_10/06/1983 _

1530Z

On Station Personnel: SGT. Jack Archer, CIV. Sammy Blackpaw

Exterior Radiation: Normal

Communication Status: Established

Rations Reserve: 100%

Potable Water Reserve: 100%

Diesel Reserve: 100%

Comments: SGT. Archer reporting. Station changeover occurred this morning without incident. Rations, water, and fuel have all been restocked and verified. The ventilation system, exterior radiation counter, exterior hatch seal, and radio have all been checked and verified to be in good working order. Weapons locker has been verified for contents and secured. Previous crew left no noteworthy comments in the passdown. Our two week watch at station 568 begins today, I anticipate no

“How does this thing work?”

My pen stops at the sudden question. I look over to see my wolfen watchmate at the radio desk, staring intently at the many knobs and dials that make up its face.

“Don’t touch it.” I order, channeling what meager authority my young voice could carry.

“Fine.” Sammy replies with an annoyed whimper. “But you’ll teach me how, right?”

“Eventually, if you want. I have a feeling we’ll get bored sooner rather than later so a little instruction here and there can’t hurt things.” I almost return to writing my report before remembering something critical. “But remember, I’m the only one who can use it. Only military personnel are allowed on the net so that doesn’t include you. The last thing the Army needs is bunch of incoherent barks clogging up the airwaves.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes, absentmindedly playing with one of the dials on the radio in what’s no doubt some kind of payback for my little remark.

I give her a displeased glare and get back to the report. I’ve learned there’s no point in arguing with wolfen folk, they seem to think every apology is halfhearted and holding grudges is some sort of endurance competition. Just before making my final remarks on the report Cindy jumps up from her seat.

“I’m going to check out the perimeter. I can’t stand sitting in this little metal tube any longer.”

“Better get used to it, two more weeks until we’re relieved. Two, more, boring, weeks.”

“No need to remind me. I can read a calendar.”

She puts on her blue and red civil defense force jacket and climbs up the ladder to the exterior hatch. I hear it open then slam shut, and I’m left alone in the dim dankness of our little home away from home.

Barely larger than a semi-truck trailer and buried ten feet underground, the standard remote radiological monitoring post, or RRMP in government tongue, was designed to keep its two occupants safe from anything the reds tried to lob at us. It contained enough food and water for a three month stint, but two weeks was the usual rotation length. Anything more and people started going stir crazy, and since standard practice was to use a mixed staff of military and civil defense personnel telling home sick staff to ‘suck it up’ doesn’t quite carry the same weight when half of them don’t have to worry about court martials or demotions. So, two weeks it was.

I finally finish my report and file it away in one of the filing cabinets kept near my desk. If there’s one thing the government made sure I wouldn’t run out of it was endless monotonous paperwork. One full report per day, then a radiological reading taken on the top of every hour, then a series of handshakes, communiques, and orders I would have to send out or receive on the radio several times a day. Cindy, however, had a more active job of keeping this place running and the perimeter secured from local wildlife. Working on the generator, landscaping the fence line outside, patrolling the perimeter, her duties didn’t confine her to the stuffy bunker like I was. Secretly I envied her, but this envy dissipates when I remind myself it’s only four weeks and we’d both be out of here, our time below ground done for the near future.

Having nothing better to do at the moment, I put on my olive-drab parka and climb the ladder, exiting the bunker to breathe in the chill October air. The topside of the bunker isn’t much more interesting than the interior. A chain-link fence goes around a small perimeter with the bunker’s hatch in the center and a radio mast and utility shed in two separate corners. Great towering trees surround the fence in every direction, the only way in or out of here is a dirt service road that snakes through the forest until joining up with a highway some miles away. I look around the fence line before finding Sammy resting her back against the utility shed, her eyes focused on something off in the forest. I walk up to her and wave.

“Hey Sammy. All done below for now. How are you holding up out here?”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“So, you from around here or…” I trail off.

“Yep, Michigan girl born and raised. Spent most of my life in Mackinaw, though my pack moved around a bit growing up. Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, then we ended up choosing the ass end of Michigan to settle down in for some reason.”

“Pack, right, you’re a Blackpaw.”

“Is that an issue?” She asks, a touch of sass in her voice.

“No, I’ve just not been around many wolves who keep their old tribal name. Something of a rarity these days.”

“That’s not even technically our name, to pronounce it in the old voice would come out a little different, and sound like a bunch of yelps and barks to your ears. Like a four-legged dog’s.”

“So, Blackpaws, were you the ones who took trophies in battle? Like teeth and claws and things?”

She chuckles, my ignorance apparently amusing.

“No, those were the Blacktails. They’ve long since disbanded so no need about losing that pretty smile of yours if you go stomping in the woods around here. It’s mostly just Blackpaws around this part of the state, or at least as far as I know. We’re all a little scattered, packs moving this way and that.”

“What made you want to join the Civil Defense Force? I’m hoping it wasn’t the pay.”

She leans forward and pokes me in the shoulder.

“And I hope you aren’t here for the pay either. I have a friend who joined the Army a couple years ago and he’ll be paying off his new mustang until his muzzle turns gray.”

“I probably would too if there were a dealership around here, though it would be my beard instead of a muzzle. So, what made you join?”

She looks off to the side and sighs.

“It was something to do. I was fresh out of high school and working as a cashier at a gas station. After a year I got fed up with my current job and found a flyer for civdef. Thought I might as well try it out, see if I liked it, get some government benefits and a steady paycheck in the meantime. What made you join the army?”

“Family legacy, mostly. My dad fought in the Korean war, when he came back he met my mother and had me. Before him my grandfather on his side and grandfather on my mother’s side also had military service, so when I was about to graduate and saw the recruiter sitting outside the school one day I got to talking and signed a contract. I wanted to see the world, experience new things, you know, go on an adventure while doing something noble.”

“Aaaand then they sent you to the ass end of nowhere to sit in a metal tube and read a radiation counter every ten minutes.” She says through a smirk. “Jack, err, Sargent Archer, I think you’ve been had. You won’t find any promotions or shiny medals out here pal. Just trees, beavers, and the occasional very angry bear.”

“You can call me Jack, Sammy. No point in formalities when it’s just the two of us. And it’s only two weeks, when my time is up I’ll be shipped somewhere else and the experience begins anew.”

“And just where did you start off, anyway? I get the feeling you’re not from around here.”

“I’m from Missouri, just outside of St. Louis.”

“That explains the midwestern plainness I was getting from you. Guess it was either this or farming corn for the rest of your life, huh?”

“Barley, actually. And that’s real cute coming from someone who’s already admitted they live nowhere interesting.”

She shrugs and glances to the side.

“There is some fun to be had here. My family used to go fishing down by the river, about an hour drive that direction.” She motions her head towards what to me is just another endless stretch of nameless forest, wolves always did seem to have an unnaturally good sense of direction. “We could see the city lights from Detroit if you got high enough. And it’s peaceful, you know, not having much around.”

“And it should stay that way, I hope.”

“What? Don’t got any fight left in you Mr. army man?”

“Not much my rifle can do against a nuke. It’s them I worry about, not the tanks or hordes of screaming commies. Conventional wars can be won, forty years ago we proved it, but nuke fights? I dunno.”

She laughs and pats my shoulder as she passes me.

“Duck and cover Jack, duck and cover. If that’s what they taught us in school then it must work. Right?”

“Right.” I uneasily agree.

She walks towards the gate and I watch her leave.

Duck and cover.

Right.

***************************

_Daily Station Report _

RRMP no. 568

_10/18/1983 _

1930Z

On Station Personnel: SGT. Jack Archer, CIV. Sammy Blackpaw

Exterior Radiation: Normal

Comm Status: Established

Rations Reserve: 83%

Potable Water Reserve: 84%

Diesel Reserve: 80%

Comments: SGT. Archer reporting. Our watch continues as normal. The generator has had several blackouts resulting in three missed radio calls. Sammy blames a faulty fuel pump, expect more information in her own report. We’ve had multiple brown bear sightings near the bunker over the past week, I suspect it has something to do with oncoming hibernation season, likely scavenging for the last bits of food before their long sleep. Our watch is scheduled to end in only two days, I remain hopeful for an uneventful station changeover. End report.

“It’s ready!” Comes Sammy’s sing songy voice echoing through the bunker.

Paperwork done, I get up from my desk and move to the small kitchenette that served as our dining area. Sammy stands in front of the oven, a large aluminum tray of some entree on the stovetop.

“What did you cook up this time?”

“My favorite, of course.” She cheekily responds.

“Sammy, I love pulled pork as much as the next guy but you have an addiction, it’s not healthy. And they’re government rations! How can you like them so much?”

“Not my fault it’s so meaty, and sweet, and smoky, and delicious.” She responds with a wag of her tail. “And it’s better than what you made yesterday, that’s for sure. I mean mac’n cheese? Really? Are you five?”

I sit down at the tiny dinner table with a shrug.

“I picked it at random. We have so many boxes in the back I thought we could use some variety.”

“Humans have no taste for good food. I could eat pulled pork for the next month straight and I’d be fine.”

“Of course you can, you’re a wolf.”

She sits the tray on the table along with a large can of reheated baked beans and small plate of cornbread, then takes a seat herself.

“Bone appetite.” She cheerily says.

“Bon appetit.” I correct her.

She frowns and picks up a fork.

“Whatever. Dig in while you can, we won’t be eating on the government’s dime much longer. And we need to think about what to make for our last meal here, think they have any shelf stable steak or lobster in the storeroom? I won’t tattle if you want to have double rations for our last day.” She conspires with a wink.

“I’ll have to check later.” I smile back.

I place some pork, beans, and cornbread onto my plate. I take a few bites only to realize that I’m missing a drink.

“I need something to wash this down. I’ll be in the storeroom.”

“Okay. And see if they have any lobster back there!”

I stand up and when I'm almost out of sight I point a finger at her.

“Don’t steal any food off my plate, pork hound.”

“No promises.”

I move to the dark storeroom. Turning on the light, I search for the shelf containing our small supply of canned drinks. Finding a ginger ale, I snatch it off the shelf and the lights dim, then come back on.

“Sammy!” I yell into the kitchen. “I think the generator’s having issues again!“

“Get down!” Comes her frantic reply.

“Wha-“

My body is thrown violently against the shelving unit as the first shockwave hits. Boxes fall down around me and a pack of D-cells manages to hit me right on the head. My feet lose traction and I fall to a prone position, hands over my head to prevent any more concussions as a terrible groaning sound floods the bunker and more boxes hit my back. The lights flicker, then die. I wait on the floor for several more moments as the external roar quiets down, blood pumping in my ears, adrenaline starting to kick in. Slowly, I remove my hands from my head and stand up in the total darkness. Taking a pack of matches from my pocket, I light one up and start to creep back towards the dining area.

“Sammy?” I call out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I think.” She responds. I move towards the sound of her voice to find her hiding under our tiny dining table, the wolfess’ limbs tucked in tightly against herself. “Do you think it’s over?”

I look around our dimly lit surroundings and shrug.

“I suppose.”

Hesitantly, she unwinds herself and peeks out from under the table.

“Was it an earthquake?”

“Maybe, certainly felt like one.”

“Or do you think they really…”

She trails off but the question is clear.

“I need to get on the radio to determine that. No leaving the bunker until I know what the hell’s going on, we’re on lockdown. Now, you need to get the generator back up and running so we have lights, in the meantime I’ll use the battery backup and see what I can determine. After that we’ll just play it by ear.” I move to one of the storage cabinets and grab a flashlight, flicking it on before throwing another to Sammy. “Use this for light. In the meantime, I’ll be by the entrance, by the monitoring station.”

She gives me a nod and runs off to the other end of the bunker to fulfill her mission. As I walk to the monitoring station, stepping over fallen over boxes and loose items, I silently plead to every higher power I know of that it was just an earthquake. Worst case scenario we can’t get the generator running again and have to make a call to be picked up by the local military base. It sucks, sure, but at least we’d still be alive and without the ramifications of a global nuclear holocaust looming over our heads.

If it wasn’t, then we’re several kinds of fucked all at once. The slow death from radiation, the acid rain, breakdown of society, famine, fallout, it would be biblical. Sammy and I would be fine, until the food and water ran out, then-

I see the equipment racks appear out of the darkness and I lean down to the power bus. Flipping some switches, new lights flick on and a monotonous hum emanates from the awakened gear. I only really cared about one piece of equipment at the moment, and flick on the radiation detector display unit. Its sensor was placed outside, on the ground near the radio antenna if I’m remembering the layout correctly. If it was a nuke that hit us then it should give us something above background levels when it turns on. If not, then it really was just a freak earthquake and my heart can stop beating out of my chest. I wait for the equipment to warm up and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Each second turns into an hour and every hour turns into a day. My entire future hinged on what this stupid little needle reads and now it chooses to take its sweet time in turning on? Mercifully, the background light eventually flicks on and the needle starts to move.

First it moves to the green zone…then to the end of the green zone…then to the yellow zone…then to the end of the yellow zone…then to the red zone…then to the end of the red zone.

Assuming it’s true, then radiation levels outside are beyond lethal. A knot starts to form in my chest. I can’t believe it. They really did it.

Just when I think I’m about to spill my dinner over the floor the interior lights flick on and Sammy emerges from the hallway.

“Hey.” She says, her tone uncharacteristically somber.

“Hey.” I whisper back.

“So, what does it say.”

“Nothing good.” I wave for her to come closer.

She stands beside me and stares at the same gauge I am.

“It’s pegged all the way to the right Jack.” She taps the glass gauge cover a few times with a claw. “Could just be an equipment malfunction. I’ve seen it happen before on similar equipment, something goes wrong with its guts and it always reads either the maximum or minimum value. This doesn’t prove anything.”

“That radiation detector cost a pretty penny. Hardened electronics, shielded sensor housing, automatic error correction, I’m inclined to believe it. If it was faulting it should give us some indication on that diagnostic panel over there.”

Sammy leans back and crosses her arms.

“Well I think it was made by the lowest bidder and is wigging out on us. Let me go outside for a quick peek, it we got bombed it should be pretty obvious.”

“No one is stepping a foot beyond that hatch until I contact command. If you go outside and we did get nuked then you could die from the rads before you knew it, and even if you made it back you could contaminate the bunker with radioactive dust. You aren’t going out there.” I firmly state.

“Then use your damn radio! I'm not staying in this glorified tin can for another two weeks just because army man over here lets a single needle gauge rule his life! God!”

Sammy throws her arms up in the air in exasperation and walks off. She has a point, I suppose.

I move to the radio desk and sit down, flicking on various switches after putting the headset on. I try the landline first, only to get nothing coming from the other end, not even static. Concerned, I then try the antenna only to get static so loud that I have to throw the headset off my head. Total silence on one method of communication, screeching interference on the other. I cannot imagine a worse possible situation. Well, at least I’m not hearing any Russian.

“Get ahold of anyone?” Asks Sammy, coming up behind me.

“No, landlines appear to be down and there’s too much interference on the radio to raise anyone.” I slam a fist against the table. “The entire goddamn point of us being here is to relay information to command in the event of a war and here we are, in the midst of a nuke fight, and we can’t do our one fucking job. We’re blind, deaf, and dumb.”

“Well I have one more way of seeing what’s out there.”

She starts climbing the ladder to the exit and I scramble after her.

“I said we’re on lockdown! Don’t open that hatch Sammy!”

She stops halfway up the ladder and rolls her eyes.

“I’m not, genius.” She holds out a handheld radiation detector for me to see. “If conditions out there are as bad as what your equipment says then this detector should still register a reading if I get close to the hatch. Not as high as what yours says, but still higher than background levels.”

I step away from the ladder and let her climb.

“Fine. Just don’t open it, and don’t stay up there for long. At the top you don’t have ten feet of soil protecting you.”

“Ya-ya-ya whatever.”

She finishes climbing to the top and begins waving the detector around the hatch. When she had her answer she climbs back down, eyes still drawn to the little yellow metal box.

“What did it say?” I ask.

There’s a pause, then she finally opens her mouth.

“When I moved it around the hatch it was pegged all the way to the right.”

I look at her with a solemn stare.

“That means it happened, Sammy. That was no earthquake. That was only a first strike, there could be more on the way. For the time being we’re staying in the bunker where it’s safe.”

“I…I can’t stay here.”

“We can exit when radiation levels return to safe levels, we have two and half months worth of supplies, more if we begin rationing. We have plenty of time.”

She looks to the floor with an anxious stare, her fists balled up and breathing rapid.

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t stay here. My pack is out there and they just got hit with a nuclear bomb as far as I know. My mother, my father, sisters, brothers, they need my help. They could be injured, or worse!” She shouts, ears pinned back.

“Well you aren’t going to help them!” I shout back. “I have operational control here. Nobody is leaving until I give the go ahead. And how the hell are you even going to reach them in the first place? We’re a hundred miles from civilization and we have no vehicles!”

“I’ll walk, whatever it takes! I know they’d do the same for me.”

“And you’d be puking your guts out by the first mile and have your skin fall by the second, never mind the next hundred. And that’s assuming you have anything left to return to in the first place.” I stand in between her and the ladder. “If you leave, you die, that’s just the way it is. I wish this didn’t happen as much as you do, but there’s nothing we can do for them. Stay inside the bunker Sammy, keep yourself alive, I’m sure that’s what they would want.”

Her face scrunches up into a scowl and a low growl comes from her chest. Whether the expression was aimed at me or the situation I wasn’t sure, but either way I’m thankful when her expression softens.

“It’s what they would want. I’ll be in the generator room.”

She turns and moves out of sight. Situation over, I look up at the hatch, silently wondering what the world was like just beyond it. It’s strange, this whole situation started with such a bang, but now there’s just silence.

*************************************

_Daily Station Report _

RRMP no. 568

_12/20/1983 _

2212Z

On Station Personnel: SGT. Jack Archer, CIV. Sammy Blackpaw

Measured Exterior Radiation: Elevated

Communication Status: 63 Days Since Last Contact

Rations Reserve: 52%

Potable Water Reserve: 51%

Diesel Reserve: 40%

Comments: SGT. Archer reporting. Exterior radiation levels remain higher than previous background levels, I doubt they’ll ever return to what they once were. On the bright side, if trends continue then it should be safe to exit the bunker within the coming days, though only for a short period of time. I know Sammy will enjoy that, she’s been going stir crazy the last few weeks. Can’t sleep, always anxious, irritated, I often see her pacing the floor aimlessly in the latter half of the day. I want to help her but there’s nothing I can do beside try and make the time go by faster. I fear her sanity may run out before the food does. We continue to ration what supplies we have in the hopes of extending our stay below ground. Our landline remains dead and radio is still scrambled. Same as always. Same as always. End Report.

I put my pen down and the bunker once again returns to bitter silence. Sammy must be sleeping, or at least trying to sleep. Normally this time of day she’s aimlessly pacing the floor or recording our remaining stocks for the tenth time that day. I move to the monitoring station and flick it to life. Exterior radiation levels are still elevated, but significantly lower than what they were in the days after the war began. War. Not even really sure if I can call it that. Are we still fighting? Are the soviets still fighting? Or has everyone emptied their silos and is now trying to figure out to survive in the resulting nuclear hellscape? There’s no point dwelling on it, I’ve got good news for Sammy.

“Sammy! Can you come here for a moment? I’ve got news.”

I immediately hear pawpads hit the floor make their way to me. Trying to sleep, not sleeping. The wolfess shambles into the room and leans against an equipment panel.

“News? From outside?”

“No,” I tap the radiation readout with a pen. “it’s been low enough for long enough that I think a quick recon mission is in order. Still can’t be out there that long though, 30 minutes tops. Anymore and we could start getting sick.”

I see some light enter her eyes, for the first time in weeks she’s not in a zombielike fugue.

“Outside? Finally! When do we go?”

“Get dressed, we can leave this afternoon. One thing though, be sure to put your gas mask on before we leave. We don’t want to be breathing in the dust, or smoke, or who the hell knows what that’s still floating around out there.”

“Ash, there’s a lot of ash out there.”

I pause, confused.

“How do you know that? Have you been outside the bunker?”

“When I get really bored I climb the ladder and sniff around the hatch. It’s almost an airtight seal, almost. It smells like ash out there, like a great big fire came and went.”

“Okay. Go get your coat and mask on, we should leave while there’s still light outside.”

I’m not entirely sure I believe her claims about not sneaking out of the bunker, but I'm in no mind to kill the mood with another argument. I move to my bunk and put on every bit of protective clothing I had. Parka, combat boots, helmet, mask, gloves, I know they won’t do much against radiation but it at least makes me feel better.

“Fuck! Goddamnit!” Shouts Sammy from her bunk. I move to see what the problem is and she’s throwing every item out of her clothing trunk in some kind of rage. “Fucking imbeciles! Idiots!”

“What’s the problem?”

“This is the problem.” She replies, holding a gas mask up to me.

It takes me a moment to see what she’s talking about.

“Oh. They gave you a mask for a human? No wolfen version?”

“No! They didn’t!” She shouts. “I knew I should have checked everything they gave me before riding up here. How the hell am I supposed to use a gas mask that can’t fit a muzzle? Fucking retards at the supply desk! Retards of the highest order!”

I stare at the fuming wolfess with a look of pity. This is the one break she was going to have in weeks and now it’s all soiled because of some supply clerk’s fuckup. Still, this doesn’t have to mean her outside excursion is totally cancelled.

“Tell you what Sammy, let me go first with a handheld detector and do a little survey of the area around the bunker. If I don’t see any rad spikes you can come up for a little bit, put the edge off your cabin fever. You just need some cloth to hold over your nose while you’re out there, just something to filter the ash out for a little bit.”

She looks to the ground and breathes out, her ears pinned back against her head.

“This is bullshit, but sure. I guess a few minutes outside is better than none.”

“Get your clothes on then. I’m leaving now. Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I was thinking since we’ll both be doing some exploring outside the bunker soon it would be a good idea to verify anyone trying to get through the hatch, who knows who might be out here with bad intentions. So let’s agree on a secret knock. Three knocks, then a pause, then two knocks, then a pause, then one knock. Three, two, one. Think you can remember that?”

She nods affirmatively.

“I did in fact graduate elementary school, despite what you might have previously thought.”

“Good.” I smile back. “Lock the hatch behind me and only open it when I give the correct signal, this will be our test run.”

And with that I move to the ladder, radiation detector in hand and gas mask on. It’s more awkward than I thought, climbing the ladder with all this gear on, but I eventually make my way to the hatch and look down to see Sammy there staring at me. We give each other a thumbs up and I open the hatch, climbing outside. As soon as I’m above ground the radiation detector starts chirping and I close the hatch behind me. A few seconds later and I hear a metallic thunk, she’s locked it. Good girl, following orders.

I survey the surrounding area. The fence is ragged and torn down in some places. The utility shed is entirely gone, only its concrete floor still remaining. Branches and fallen trees litter the perimeter and a thick layer of dark gray ash coats the ground under my boots. The sky is dark with clouds and the sun exists only as a tiny pinprick of light through the weakest layers. It’s bad, but thankfully not as bad I thought. There are still trees upright and the sun isn’t entirely obscured. I adjust my mask and walk to the fence line, eyes glued to the rad detector in my hand.

As I walk around the fence line I detect occasional modest spikes of radiation but nothing that would preclude Sammy from coming up. I check my watch and with fifteen minutes to spare I decide to investigate our radio antenna. The antenna stands several dozen yards above a concrete base, and despite the damage to other parts of the station’s exterior it has somehow remained almost entirely intact. Ladder rungs are welded onto one of its legs and with a cautious hold I begin to climb upwards.

At the top I check the radiation detector again and find no anomalies. Looking out towards the horizon I see great clouds of ash hiding a great orange glow. Forest fires, I assume. I look towards where Detroit should be and see nothing but more smoke and ash. No city lights, no airplanes, no burning smolders, just nothing. I check my watch again and decide it’s time for Sammy to come up, I would have my full dose in just a few minutes. After climbing back down I move to the hatch and knock against its pitted surface.

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK*

The lid clicks open and Sammy stares at me from below, a washcloth held against her nose.

“Come up, have a look.” I motion for her to climb out.

She does so hesitantly, looking around in every direction before finally pulling her body above the hatch and closing it behind her.

“It’s bad out here. And this ash…” She remarks.

“Just like you said.” I reply. “Come here, I want you to see this before you go back down.”

We jog over to the radio antenna and I point to the ladder rungs.

“Climb up and take a peek. Tell me what you see. You can see better than I can since you don’t have a mask on.” She nods and begins climbing. She does so surprisingly fast, in not even half the time it took my clumsy ass. “Can you see Detroit?” I yell up at her.

She bobs her head side to side.

“No, just smoke, and I see some fires too, over there.”

“I saw those too. Come back down now, I’m close to my maximum dose.”

She continues staring for a few more seconds, then finally begins the climb down. We trudge through the ash to the hatch and climb our way down. After making it to the bottom I take off my mask and turn to Sammy.

“Feel better now?”

“…a little.” Is her weak reply.

“If rad levels continue to decrease, and all that ash eventually settles, it should be fine for you to go outside without a mask on. Don’t worry, you won’t be stuck down here forever.”

“I’m going to be honest with you Jack, I didn’t like it much up there. I’m not sure which is worse, being stuck in this sardine can or in the ashy remains of where I’ve spent most of my life. It’s fucked up either way.”

I can’t help but nod in agreement, devoid of anything else to say. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.

******************************

_ Daily Station Report _

RRMP no. 568

_03/15/1984 _

1345Z

On Station Personnel: SGT. Jack Archer, CIV. Sammy Blackpaw

Measured Exterior Radiation: Slightly Elevated

Communication Status: 148 Days Since Last Contact

Rations Reserve: 7%

Potable Water Reserve: 5%

Diesel Reserve: 3%

_Comments: SGT. Archer reporting. Our supply situation continues to deteriorate. Despite going down to half rations we’ve nearly exhausted what supplies we have remaining. Without resupply we will be forced to take what we can carry and proceed along the service road to the highway. On the bright side, I’ve been able to receive intermittent radio broadcasts from what I believe is a military station. I’m only able to hear occasional code words and phrases, but it does at least mean that someone, somewhere, is still in a state to give orders. Despite my repeated attempts I’ve been unable to raise anyone on the radio myself, perhaps this interference is breaking up my broadcasts as much as it’s breaking up theirs. Still, I remain hopeful that with improving meteorological conditions we may establish contact with command in the near future. I only hope that I still have the fuel to run the radios when those conditions arrive. Exterior radiation levels are still within mostly safe levels and ashfall has largely stopped. Sammy and I continue to explore the nearby woods for signs of survivors or help. We have found nothing thus far. End report. _

“Come on Jack! It’s time to get a move on!” Sammy shouts.

“I know, I know.” Another day, another fruitless expedition into the woods. I throw my boots on and move to the weapons locker by my bunk. I unlock it with a key and retrieve the only two weapons within, an M16A1 leftover from Vietnam and an M1911 pistol. I sling the rifle across my back and stash an extra couple mags into my pockets, holding the pistol and its spare magazine in one hand. I join Sammy by the exit. “Here you are.” I say, presenting the pistol to her.

She stashes it along the ammo in one of the pockets of her civil defense force jacket. While it was wildly against regulations to allow her to handle either of the weapons assigned to me I felt it was best practice for us to both go outside armed. By now the threat of Russian troops invading the continental US has long since dissipated, but the threat of hostile scavengers and raiders still remains. We have yet to see any, thankfully, but I’ve heard the stories of what people will do to survive in terrible situations.

“Where are we searching this time?” The wolfess asks.

“Along the service road. I want to make sure it’s clear.”

“Let me guess, that’s our escape plan for when the food runs out.”

“Correct, we’ll move along the service road, hit the highway, then from there try and get close to Detroit and see who’s still around. With any luck Fort Jackson is still standing and we can regroup with whatever’s left of the military.”

“Not much of a plan, to be honest. We still haven’t gotten a clear view of Detroit. Could be a smoldering crater for all we know.”

“You have any better ideas?”

“We should head North, towards Mackinaw, where the rest of my pack lives. We’re a hardy bunch and they wouldn’t have been hit directly. We would be safe with them. They know how to hunt, fish, live without the luxuries of civilization. That’s where our best chances lie.”

I adjust my rifle with a grunt.

“Alright, when the food runs out you can go North to Mackinaw and I’ll go South to Detroit. We’ll each take our chances.”

Her ears go flat with a whimper.

“I don’t think we should split up Jack.”

I grab the first rung of the ladder and begin climbing.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, Sammy. For now let’s just check out the service road.”

I open the hatch and step onto the soft ground. Over the last few weeks the clouds have thinned allowing more sunlight to poke through. Most of the ashfall has also stopped, but I reckon the ground will be still be coated in a thick layer of the stuff for months to come. We move past the wrecked gate that once made the entrance to the perimeter and march onto the dirt service road.

Large branches and knocked down trees block our path forward several times, despite being quite a distance from the nearest blast it still managed to wreck havoc on the forest around here. We’re an hour into the trek, maybe halfway to the highway by my estimation, when Sammy sticks her nose in the air.

“What do you smell?”

“Not…*sniff*…sure…*sniff*…”

“People?”

“Maybe. Smells kind of like gasoline. I’ll run ahead and investigate, you keep trudging along.”

“I thought you didn’t want to split up?” I yell after her.

“I have a good feeling about this smell! Just keep walking and I’ll run back to you after I know what it is!”

“Keep your gun on you, and don’t go too far ahead!” I shout back.

She yells something back and disappears beyond a bend in the road. Given that I don’t have anything close to her sense of smell I had to trust her on this one. Hell, she felt the quake from the first bomb going off before I had even dropped to the ground, maybe she really does have some sort of sixth sense about these things.

I continue along the dreary path, following my wolfish scout’s footsteps in the ash, until I hear something odd on the wind. Sounds like engines, and they’re getting closer. I immediately dash off to the side of the road and hide behind a fallen tree. The roaring grows closer and I finally see a vehicle come into view. It’s a large pickup truck decked out in floodlights and a large bull bar. A few people are standing up in the bed, rifles pointed in the air. Some are wearing gasmasks, other hide their faces behind simple bandannas or tied together cloths. All of them are stained with ash and dirt.

I was never sure exactly what a post-apocalyptic raider would look like in real life, but I'm damn sure what I’m seeing right now is the real deal. I watch them edge closer to my position and I pop my head up to get a look around.

*BANG*

A bullet whizzes past my ear and I’m left ducking back behind the tree. They saw me? Shit! I crawl along the ground to the edge of the fallen tree and break into a dead spring back along the path that I had come from. Two more shots ring out behind me but they hit trees instead of flesh. After turning around a couple bends I look to my rear to see no pursuers in sight. Yet it only takes a few seconds to hear the engines grow louder as they drive closer. Desperate, I run back along the road, past broken branches and fallen trees, past the broken gate and toward the bunker’s hatch.

Before opening it I take a moment to catch my breath and look around.

“Sammy!” I yell into the surrounding forest, voice hoarse and lungs depleted. “Sammy! Where the hell are you?”

No response. With the roar of the raider’s engines on the wind once more I open the hatch and climb down, locking it behind me. I run to the weapons locker and stuff my pockets with more spare magazines, then move back to the exit and point my rifle at the hatch. It only takes a few minutes to hear the engines growling overhead. They seem to move in a circle around the hatch, then stop and turn their engines off.

Silence, then I hear the hatch creak as someone above tries to open it. My palms grow sweaty and my trigger finger tense, whoever comes down first is going to get a few new holes courtesy of yours truly. I doubt I can kill all of them, but I’ll at least go down fighting. I think my parents would be proud of that.

Whoever’s trying to open the hatch stops, then I hear knuckle on metal.

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK*

I blink. Is that what I thought it was? No, must be my ears tricking me.

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK*

Twice now, clearly Sammy must be up there. Did they capture her? Are they going to kill her if I don’t come out? Or did they torture the secret knock from her and I’ll be bumrushed the second I open the hatch? Fuck!

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK-KNOCK…KNOCK*

Third time now, I get the feeling if they’re holding her hostage their patience is surely wearing thin by now. Stay here, or go out? Stay here, or go out? Stay here like a sniveling coward and starve, or go out and at least try take my life into my own hands? Mustering up what courage I have, I slowly climb up the ladder. After undoing the lock I throw it open and pull myself against the ladder, rifle pointing up at any potential attackers. I look up, yet there’s no one there. Just a cold gray sky. Cautiously, I poke my head above the lip of the hatch and look around.

The raiders have parked their vehicles in front of the gate and the raiders themselves are lined up shoulder to shoulder in front of their hoods. In the center, I see Sammy flanked by two large wolves. Keeping my rifle trained on them, I climb out of the bunker and land on my feet.

“Let her go you bastards!”

The group is silent at first, but soon amused laughter starts to come across the air.

“Jack!” Sammy shouts. “It’s okay.”

“W-what?” I confusedly stutter, my rifle frantically drifting from one raider to the next.

“These are Blackpaws, Jack. They’re my family. They were trying to avoid a wreck on the highway when they found the service road that lead them here. I know they look pretty gnarly, but you have to keep the ash off you somehow.”

Slowly, my rifle lowers. My eyes scan the people in their masks and, sure enough, every one of them is a wolf. Guess I didn’t have much time to take in their appearances when I thought they wanted my hide.

“But they shot at me!” I shout towards them. “Why did you do that.”

One of the wolves emerges from the group, walking with a limp and a nasty scar burned along his gray furred muzzle.

“I apologize, we didn’t know you were with my daughter. The last group of soldiers we found shot at us unprovoked, we saw your green coat and thought you were trying to ambush us.”

“They shot at you? They must have mistaken you for someone else.”

“No, it’s every man for himself out there. Survival is all anyone cares about.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“I’m guessing you don’t get much news in that bunker of yours? The war ended minutes after it started. The government’s lost control and I doubt the bears across the ocean are in a better state. This chaotic time will pass, as all things do, but for now we must simply survive.”

I look towards Sammy.

“I guess you’re staying with them?”

“Yes, it’s a miracle we found each other in all this mess, I’d be a fool to leave them now. You’re free to join us, if you want.”

I look to the ground and shake my head.

“My job’s not quite done yet. I'm close to getting through to someone on the radio, and we have a bit of food and water left. I just need to get one report out and-“

“Son,” The gray muzzled wolf interrupts me. “look around. There’s nothing here for you but endless piles of ash and a dank hole in the ground. No one’s around to read your reports, and if there were I doubt they would care. The damage has been done. You did your best, but your job is over.”

“I can’t just abandon my post like this. What if you dropped me off in Detroit? By Fort Jackson? Then I could at least link up with whoever’s left without being accused of being a deserter.”

“Son, there is no more Detroit, and there is no more Fort Jackson. Like I said, the damage has been done.”

“And just where are you planning to go anyway?”

“The forests up North are still burning so we can’t cross the border. We’ll go South instead, see what’s destroyed and what’s not. Maybe find a place to settle down in for a while. We can drop you off wherever you wish. You’ll be a guest among the pack, Sammy advocated for you.”

I look back to the bunker, then to Sammy and her pack.

“Are you going by Missouri, by any chance?”

“Depends on where the road takes us.” Answers the wolf.

“Worth a shot. But before we leave, you should take what supplies we have remaining. Before I get your hopes up, it’s not very much.”

“We’re already carrying what we need, but your contribution will not go unnoticed.”

“Good, and there’s one last thing I need to do before we take off. It’s just a formality, but I want people to know what happened.”

_Daily Station Report _

RRMP no. 568

_03/15/1984 _

1930Z

On Station Personnel: SGT. Jack Archer

Exterior Radiation: Slightly Elevated

Communication Status: None

Rations Reserve: 0%

Potable Water Reserve: 0%

Diesel Reserve: 0%

Comments: SGT. Archer reporting. This will be station 568’s final report. All remaining water, diesel, and food has been transferred to the group of locals Sammy and I are evacuating with. All sensitive materials have been destroyed. All personal belongings, weapons, and ammunition are being taken with us. This station has served its purpose, and without any way to contact command there’s nothing left for us here. Sammy and I are heading South, to where exactly I don’t know. I can only hope we can find some safe haven among the chaos, preferably one with clean water and a large supply of government supplied pulled pork. End report.