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J is for — Journey through danger.  The travails of people seeking a new place

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There were four stages of recovery, each approximately six weeks in length.  Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta.

Sitting around the table discussing in detail what was expected, it was assumed that the fallout would be between an extinction event and a totally destroyed planet surface, that our plans were to be optimistic, assuming the lesser of the two evils, and that we would be out and about sooner rather than later.

Six years advance notice, three years of denying it would hit us, one year of squabbling between major political parties, and now leadership, or lack of it, that was dictated by the oligarchs, made it difficult, if not impossible, for those who wanted to help to enact plans.  Everything that required funding had to be approved, and that approval was subject to profiteering.

It basically created two factions. The idea of making money off a crisis situation, abhorrent as it was, had become the driver for everything and eventually spawned It created the newspaper headline, “The race to save the world, but not by whom you think it is!”

I don’t think those who were in control realised there wasn’t going to be a world in which wealth would mean anything.  It was why, with one year to go, a group of other billionaires realised they were going to be left out in the cold and unilaterally decided to create their own solution, one that went against the prevailing government, one that was only going to be able to pick up the pieces, if there were any pieces left.

A meteor was coming, all efforts to knock it off course had failed, and there was a last-ditch plan to try and blow it to pieces.  It was the ultimate Hail Mary, but it wasn’t our bailiwick.

They were building underground rescue centres, and after the meteor hit or shattered, the military that wasn’t aligned with the government would be running their own rescue effort.  There was no time or space to save everyone.

That was the plan.  And I and thousands of others were also part of the plan.

Lieutenant Giselle Landers, the closest thing we had to a meteor and space expert, had just concluded the presentation to a packed hall of about one thousand servicemen and women of all ranks and branches, one of a dozen held around the country.

There was stunned silence.

I was not surprised.

In the alpha phase, we just stayed underground and hoped for the best.  Either the meteor hit us and, like in dinosaur times, obliterated the life-giving rays of the sun, or if the Hail Mary worked, the meteor was destroyed, and then it rained shrapnel down for days, weeks, or months.

No one knew for sure what would happen, other than life as we knew it would be over.  And quite possible for all those who didn’t get an invite to a shelter, what amounted to 95 per cent of the population.

Gabby’s final statement, that most of the 95 per cent would die in the first six months, was that moment when it started to feel real.  She had run model after model, scenario after scenario, but the result was the same.  The government had left it too late to do anything to help the people, only themselves.

The best case scenario:

In the beta phase, the teams sent to individual recovery centres would start monitoring the outside to see when it was safe to commence operations.

Gamma phase, six weeks after impact, it was assumed that by this time, it would be reasonably safe to go out and start searching for survivors

Delta phase, having collected our first quota of survivors ready to transport to the new city that was expected to be under construction and ready to take refugees, we called base and started moving people.

Like I said, it all sounded feasible when sitting around that table.

Then came the reality.

They succeeded in destroying the meteor, shattering it into a million or more pieces, pieces that broke through the atmosphere and rained down for a week.  What no one knew was that there was a smaller meteor in the tail of the larger one, totally undetectable until too late, and it hit the earth in the middle of Africa.

It made all the plans we made almost irrelevant.

Each phase was meant to be measured in weeks, but in the end, by the time we could execute the Gamma phase, nearly eight months had passed, and most of us believed that no one could have survived the aftermath, let alone the actual event.

The collision created a huge crater, set off a chain reaction of explosions, and set in motion a large number of volcanoes, all in turn heating the atmosphere and the oceans, creating steam and ash that blotted everything.  In the end, the meteor storms were the least of the planet’s problems.

And we, buried in our bunkers, barely survived ourselves.  It was a tribute to the designers and builders, and the redundancy that was built in kept us alive.

Until everything outside settled down.  There was still ash in the air, and the landscape that we could see was desolate, destroyed, and uninhabitable.

Giselle and I, and four others, were in the first team to go outside, initially to see if life could be sustained, and if not, to begin operations to find anyone who survived.

We were dressed in special Hazmat suits with independent oxygen supplies.  The air was still polluted with dust, and for 10 am, it was very gloomy, the sun barely penetrating the thick air.

All around us, the once lush forest was simply a swauve of blackened rocks and scree and charred stumps where trees once grew.  Nothing could survive very long in those conditions.

Nothing.

The outside temperature was registered at 45 degrees Celsius.  The air had 400 times the required level of pollution and was, therefore, unbreathable.

Our facility was built deep in the forest, about five miles from a highway, about 20 miles from the nearest town.  We had managed to save a hundred and fifty people from the town, those that hadn’t tried to escape north.  They were told their best chance of survival would be to head for the Arctic Circle, which Giselle said would have been good advice if there were shelters.

We could have saved more if they had listened to reason.

Each facility had a version of the vehicles that were used on the moon landings, specifically designed to traverse rough terrain.  It was rough between the facility and the highway, and we had to go slowly.

When we reached the highway, there were thousands of cars in every direction, with bodies inside and out as far as the eye could see.  They would not have died straight away.  It would have taken a few days, a week, perhaps longer for the nearest volcanic activity to overcome them.

From the highway, we drove down to the town with no break in the traffic that had clogged the road.  The town wasn’t much better, the buildings relatively intact and filled with those people who thought it would protect them.

It did not. Those bodies were not charred like those outside.  We checked all the buildings, and in local government offices that housed the sheriff’s station and law courts, the inside was remarkably intact and almost as it would have been before the event.

Giselle was intrigued and found on investigation that the walls were made of mud bricks and over two feet thick.  The doors were three inch cast iron and the window shutters about the same, closed and locked.

It was odd that the door was closed but not locked.

And unlike the other buildings crammed with people trying to hide, it was relatively empty.  A quick search uncovered three bodies, remarkably intact.

We brought a doctor, and his examination told us they had only recently died.

People who had almost lived to tell about it.

That’s when Giselle said, “There will be more, somewhere.  These places have basements, deep underground.  Start looking.”

It didn’t take long.  Another cast iron door led to a passage and stairs going down.  At the bottom, another door unlocked and easily opened.

I took the lead and drew my weapon in case there might be trouble.  I switched on my torch and walked slowly down the passage towards an underground room.

It was in darkness, and standing at the entrance, I moved the light around the room.  20 cots with 17 people on them.  None were moving or had reacted to the light.

I called out to the doctor.  “17 people, they don’t look like they have survived.”

The doctor followed me in and went to the first cot.  I held the light over the body while he examined it.  It was a middle-aged woman who looked malnourished but otherwise in reasonable condition.

Then he almost yelled, “She’s alive, barely.”  And them went to each cot and after a brief examination, “and another, and another…”

We had brought water and rations, and I sent two up to get the supplies.

I kneeled down beside the cot and looked at her more closely.  I knew the face and then remembered who she was.  The Mayor.  We had stopped briefly on our way to tell her we would be back to collect anyone who wanted to come with us.  She had rounded up all the townspeople she could but volunteered to stay behind to fetch the rest.  I guess she had found them, and by then it was too late..

When the others returned, I shook her gently by the shoulder, and after a minute, her eyelids fluttered, then opened.

“You made it.”

“Did I.”  Her voice was more a dry rasp.  “I thought I was in heaven.  The others?”

“I’m checking them now.” I handed her a bottle of water after removing the lid. It might be an idea to sip first.”

“How long since…”

“Three weeks the food ran out, four days the water.  I told everyone to lie down and conserve energy.  I think we all knew our time was up.  Did you make it with the others?”

“Yes.  We saved about a hundred and fifty.”

The doctor yelled out, “Fifteen alive, two dead, but only in the last hour or so.  Ration the water for a few minutes so they can recover.”

“What happened, other than the end of the world?”

“Have you seen outside?”

She shook her head.  One day there was endless traffic passing through, the next the skies turned black, with rocks falling like hail, tje air swirling with ash and smoke so thick you couldn’t see, with the sound of continuous thunder, and people just started dying, slowly at first, the screams made it feel like we’re were in hell, and then nothing.  By that time, we had locked ourselves in and came down here and barricaded the doors.  It was nearly six months before we came out to look.  Is it all like this?”

“We don’t know.  This is the first time we’ve left the facility. No one can survive yet, so we’ll take you back in suits.  Soon.”

She reached out and took my hand in hers. “Is there any hope?”

When I set out earlier, I didn’t have any.  I expected to discover we were the only people left, other than those on other facilities.  Now, finding these people alive, even if barely, there was hope.

“Yes.  There’s nearly three hundred of us, and there’s more.  If you can survive, then others will have.  So, let’s pray we find them as quickly as we found you.  Are there any other places in town we might find people?”

“Thank you.  And yes, there might.  But I will need a few minutes.”

“OK.”  I looked over at Giselle, who was talking to a young girl.  She glanced my way and smiled.

The first step, she had said to the team before we left the facility, of a very long journey into danger.

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©  Charles Heath  2025