Overrun Read online

  "As so are we."

  "As so are we," Baldwin repeated moving about uncomfortably in his chair.

  "But those countries will soon die,” Faulken’s voice became curt. His cigar tip again burned brightly.

  “We have to ensure that we outlast them. All of them. It is how this technological race has to be. And when it’s finally over, the United States will take full lead in world affairs. As it should be. It’s why Plan Zero was created. It’s why the Vulture team now exists. It is why we are here today."

  "How many others think like you?" Baldwin asked straightening his back.

  "Many more than you might think."

  Faulken walked to the side of the wall and put out his cigar. An even more ominous darkness filled the hall.

  "In fact your thoughts are much the same."

  "My thoughts are not the same. Initiating Plan Zero is condemning our own citizens to death. When did this ever become our right?"

  "It became our right the day the ozone layer finally died. The same day we took to burrowing into the hills and digging ourselves underground. It is true many must and will die. But this will give many more the opportunity to live.”

  Baldwin lowered his head and looked down at the ground.

  “It is a grave thing. But I assure you, it is necessary for this world to survive.”

  “This is not how it should be. The President cannot be given this option. Not to do this.”

  "We have known since the technology first became feasible this was someday going to take place. Everything has been painstakingly prepared.”

  “Plan Zero is based on unproven technology only believed to work as designed," Baldwin said quietly.

  “That’s not true…,” Faulken said holding up a finger and pointing at Baldwin. “…not anymore. The Beam Cannon Hardware is known to work. It will generate an artificial ozone. Only implementation is holding us back."

  "Implementation is holding us back,” Baldwin whispered mockingly while shaking his head at the floor.

  "You know as well as I, we don’t have the room,” Faulken quickly answered him. “Each solar dish to power the cannons occupies ten square miles. You almost need more than ten times the size of land you are protecting just for that alone.”

  Baldwin did not respond.

  "And then there’s the actual cannons and land space incinerated when they launch. Construction of the satellites to deflect the bursts down and around will consume even greater chunks of ground.”

  Faulken paused for a moment allowing his words to linger in the air and settle about.

  "There is nowhere for them to go," he said again. "The plan. It is the only way."

  "No!" Baldwin spit sharply. "You are describing the most unspeakable actions this world has ever seen."

  "Plan Zero is the only way to implement the hardware,” Faulken’s voice was calm and smooth. “As a military operation it will eliminate Japan and its power alliances as a superpower threat. The world will no longer live under military fear. And the disease plaguing the planet, by the time our own children have grown, will finally have been erased.”

  “This is unconscionable!” Baldwin said hotly and rose up from his chair. “I don’t care what it is ultimately supposed to accomplish!”

  “No it is not,” Faulken said softly again. “It is necessary.”

  "We are plotting to assassinate our own citizens and destroy our own cities! For god’s sakes!” Baldwin’s voice raged through the hall.

  “We are ridding ourselves of the disease,” Faulken continued. “It will only pollute the future and impede our progress. And we are clearing the land so dish and cannon construction can finally take place.”

  “We risk domestic revolt,” Baldwin said leaning back while lowering his head and rubbing his temples. “It’s sheer insanity.”

  "It is why everything must be kept secret,” Faulken said again. "For as long as possible. Public knowledge could topple it all."

  "We should abandon it now," Baldwin said covering his face with his hands. "Before it progresses further. Abandon it now and do our best to construct and enact the technology. We have that responsibility. Not what you and your people propose."

  Baldwin let out another long breath. His voice lowered and his tone became even more grim.

  "It may no longer even be an option. More domes than ever before are in construction, and it is no secret that dome military is continuing to grow. We have done almost nothing to conceal this. People are starting to know.”

  Faulken looked at Baldwin and then down the presidential hall.

  “I don’t think it’s something we can contain. Sooner or later, it’s going to get out."

  Faulken took one last pause before turning back towards the door to the presidential office.

  "I agree," he said. "The time is near. The world is at brink. It is in great danger of slipping away."

  Faulken’s breath sounded loudly through the barren halls and empty darkness.

  "It is the reason that we are here today."

  Baldwin sat still in his chair while Faulken turned from him and slowly walked down the corridor. His heavy shoes scuffed loudly across the floor as he went.

  Chapter 4

  "That kid you brought in, he's been a coma since coming into the ward. I've talked to the case doctor. They don't think he's going to make it."

  Dome Physician Jack Everson watched his patient's body tense and waited a second before administering the final shot of protective radiation serum. It was the last medication required to clear his friend, John Kirken, for his prolonged outer-dome excursion to see his stepchildren in the outside town of Beuford, Washington.

  "I'm sorry, John."

  "It's probably for the best," Kirken said morosely.

  Everson jabbed the needle into his arm making Kirken wince slightly. The serum coursed through his system like a runaway fire. Kirken closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass.

  "Yes, it probably is. They identified the group he belongs to by a tattoo on his leg. They’ve been causing problems on the outside for a long time. A lot of people just want to throw him back out."

  Kirken nodded knowingly.

  "It's starting to get really bad out there. People are starting to get desperate."

  "It's always been bad out there, John. There's nothing new happening."

  "I know," Kirken said swallowing hard. "Can you blame them?" He asked looking up at Everson.

  "I can sympathize with people feeling abandoned out there. I can also sympathize with the fright every person must feel living out there trying to keep their families alive. But what I can't condone is any attack on government personnel. We live in here for a reason. We're trying to build a safer world. They can't fault us for that."

  Kirken let out a disconsolate grunt.

  "You disagree?"

  "Have you ever even been out there Jack? Have you ever seen what living out there can do?"

  "Everybody makes do, John. Just like everybody in here."

  "That's bullshit, Jack, and you know it," Kirken said irritably. He remembered saying something similar to Lt. Wagner before they were attacked.

  Everson looked away from his friend’s face. Kirken stared down from the examining table at the rectangular designs of the tile along the floor. The burning of unwanted tears settled at the corners of his eyes.

  "Could you really live with it Jack, the way they do? Could you watch your family slowly die from the radiation sickness?"

  "I don't think I could answer that question, John, unless I found myself in that situation," Everson said slowly. "Nobody can."

  "That's what I'm talking about, Jack."

  "Except maybe you."

  Kirken didn't answer. He reached across the table to the counter where his clothes were being kept. He dressed silently not looking at his friend.

  "I'm hearing there might be legal repercussions for what you did yesterday," Everson then said to him. "There are rumors that Wagner is going to jump al
l over you with charges of troop endangerment, facility contamination and the like for bringing that kid back."

  "He won't do it," Kirken said. "There were witnesses. If it even goes to court, I have plenty of people that saw a United States soldier step over the wounded body of a ten-year-old kid without even showing one thought of looking back.

  “He wouldn’t risk that being brought up. Even if he did, I don't think it would even matter anymore."

  Everson looked questioningly at Kirken but ignored his last comment.

  "I don't think the courts are as sympathetic as you might think. At least not anymore. That ten-year-old kid fired on dome troops. I don't think…"

  Kirken held up his hand to cut him off.

  "You know John, you can get in a lot of trouble for thinking and talking the way you do. Obligation to consider that kid's life ceased the instant he picked up that gun and pointed it at your squad."

  "No one ever saw him with a gun," Kirken said lowering his legs into his pants and onto the floor. "Not me. Not Wagner. The only thing anyone saw was that kid hitting the ground. So close to Wagner he could have probably caught him. But that guy didn't even look. In front of his own troops, all he could do was run. And you know what? That's what those new troops are going to remember. That's what they saw their commanding officer do."

  Everson walked to the other side of the room and took a seat in a corner chair while Kirken continued to talk.

  "The only thing those troops learned that day was that life on the outside is second-rate. Not important. Well, what happens when that idea really spreads? What if it already has? What happens when everyone in here finally decides it’s o.k. for those people to die? What happens to them? What happens to us?"

  "I don't know, John," Everson said to him. "I really don't know."

  Kirken raised his arms and tucked in his shirt. He looked around on the floor trying to find where he kicked off his shoes.

  "What I do know, John, is this. You've done everything in your power to bring your kids to come live here with you."

  "That has nothing to do with this," Kirken snarled doing nothing to conceal the effort it took to keep his voice under control.

  "It has everything to do with this, and you goddamn well know it," Everson shot back. Despite the rising tone of his voice, he remained seated in his chair. "No one that I know thinks like you. And no one I know has a situation like you do. It was unfortunate and inadvisable for you to become involved with the people on the outside. I said that then, and I say that now. But you went ahead and married Deanna. You lived on the outside for awhile. You saw more than most of us will ever see. And you were lucky enough to be allowed back. But life on the inside and the out is too short for us to dwell on the bitterness of it. You can't just give up hope."

  "I gave that up a long time ago, Jack," Kirken replied somberly.

  Everson became quiet for a moment. The only sound was the padded footsteps of the nurses shuffling outside the door.

  "Well, then maybe you shouldn't be working in here anymore. Maybe you belong with them out there."

  "Yeah, maybe," Kirken said walking past Everson towards the door. He pulled his coat from a hook, and after putting it on, turned to look one final time at his friend.

  "John…"

  "You're right, Jack." Kirken moved toward the door and wrapped his fist around its handle.

  "John, what you do here is important. You don't have to be ashamed about coming back. Both your kids know that you didn't abandon them. I know they know that, and you should too."

  "I shouldn't have left, Jack. Even for that. I should be out there with them,” Kirken said slowly reaching through the air with his eyes for the right words to say. “To help them get through this."

  "You should be out there to help them die, is that what you're saying?"

  "I don't know."

  "John, your kids wouldn't want that. It would make all your lives a waste, and I know you know that deep down. Your job here and the reason you came back here is to keep people safe. You're teaching others how to keep people safe. You're allowing those of us with the knowledge to conduct our research and experiments. We're here to make a safer world, one where everyone gets to live. I promise you that, John."

  Kirken didn't speak. His eyes glistened as he turned to leave.

  "If not for your kids, maybe for someone else's."

  "Yeah, maybe," Kirken said.

  Even from where he stood behind him, Everson saw a tear slide down Kirken's cheek from the corner of his eye. Kirken pulled the door open slightly and slipped out into the hallway. Everson stepped out after him and watched his friend walk down the corridor.

  "Make her sign the papers, John," Everson called after him.

  Kirken never stopped walking and soon disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 5

  It had been five hours since he had left the dome. With a crunch, his car bounced up the embankment and into the driveway of his ex-wife, Deanna. His tires left a sticky residue behind on the decaying pavement. Kirken was surprised there was still pavement left at all. The house was already ten years old.

  He saw her then waiting for him in the large window facing the yard. At least what there was of it. Like all the others around the neighborhood, it was mostly dirt and rock.

  Kirken punched the latch on his car, and with a groan of metal the door reluctantly lifted up. Heat rushed into the car destroying the artificial atmosphere and forcing Kirken to take a second to catch his breath. His body jerked slightly as it accustomed to bringing the burning air in and out of his lungs.

  With a scowl, Kirken planted his feet on the hot ground. He could feel its warmth even through the soles of his shoes. He pushed his dark shielded glasses as far as they could go up the bridge of his nose and slowly pulled himself out. The harsh rays of the sun hurled themselves across the top of his head and at his eyes. In his twentieth year of traveling on the outside, he still couldn't believe the heat.

  Kirken stood at the edge of the lawn and watched his ex-wife through the window stroll carefully the length of the house to greet him at the front door.

  The sight of her still infuriated him. With each trip to visit his stepchildren, he thought the feeling might one time go away. Every time he saw her face, he was surprised and a little scared that it didn't.

  He reached into his pocket for his vial of outer-dome medication and threw the tablets to the back of his mouth.

  The pills were intended to complement the radiation injection he received from his physician friend and far different from the meds dispensed to his men when out on their brief patrols. The effects of these were much more pronounced. They redirected body energy to the immune system creating a stronger biological shield against the radiation poisoning.

  In doing so, the medication produced a narcotic-like calming effect. It slowed mind and thought processes while redirecting energy to the body's outer defenses. On trips to visit his ex-wife, Everson always gave him a little more. It wasn't harmful to the body, meaning you couldn't really overdose, and it usually made conversations with his ex-wife a little more tolerable.

  A creak from the heat battered screen door turned Kirken's attention to the front of the dilapidated house. A few pieces of paint flaked off and fluttered around the shoulders of his ex-wife as she stepped out.

  Despite the even higher dose he always gave himself on these visits, Kirken could still feel the adrenaline rush through his veins and pound in his head.

  He could never understand what he had been thinking the day he met her on patrol more than twelve years ago. Like Everson had always told him, he should have just walked away and let her go. But he didn't. He couldn't. Something more powerful had anchored him to life with her on the outside.

  Kirken had fallen in love with her two young children, Brandon and Mel. Their father had fallen early to the sickness and orphaned them before the oldest, Brandon, was even five.

  Kirken had found an innocence in their youth, somethi
ng far different from the rest of the world. And when they began to grow, he had also found an inner surging strength. It made him believe he still had a soul after all these years of living within the domes.

  They had made him feel for the first time in his life not guilty for being one of the living. Every day he was away from them in the domes, he yearned to have it all back again. His mind ached for the peace they gave his battered heart.

  "How are you John?" his ex-wife asked when she had finally stepped out.

  "I'm good, Deanna," Kirken lied. He hadn't been good in quite some time. And he had no idea how to make himself right.

  Kirken walked to meet her halfway in the front of the house. Neither spoke when they faced each other. Deanna stared up into the darkness of his glasses while Kirken looked over the top of her head and surveyed the decomposing structure behind her.

  "The house doesn't look good," was the first thing from his mouth.

  In an instant, the look of courtesy and tolerance Deanna wore across her face, the same one she pulled out every time Kirken came to visit after the divorce, transformed into a flash of seething anger and vengeful hate. Kirken knew the feeling well.

  "What do you expect, John?"

  Then something Kirken hadn't seen in quite some time from his ex-wife happened. Her expression quickly changed again. Rage became sadness. Her lips began to tremble, and sudden tears brimmed over her eyes.

  "I think the house looks good,” her voice shook when she spoke. “It's lasted a good long time. More than most." Her tone seemed to beg Kirken for peace.

  Kirken found he still did not care. He despised her for her spite.

  Deanna detested the feelings he had for her children and the fondness they returned back. She hated him for coming and then leaving her life and was willing to sacrifice the health and future he could offer by taking them back with him to the domes.

  At least that was how he had always seen it. With a vengeance, like he always did when he first saw her, he let his tongue run loose.

  "Let me take the kids, Deanna. Let me take them back with me, today, away from all this.” He raised his hands and gestured despondently at the dead lawn and weather-destroyed house. “I can give them a good place to live. You know that. Much better than this."