Fallen City Read online

  After the third time he'd been forced to run out and chase off some punk trying to break his lock and run off with his bike, he'd taken to wheeling it into the back office and leaving it there. So he walked it right inside when he arrived.

  Daryl, who had the day shift, straightened with an annoyed look as Jack burst into the store. “Finally. Could you do me a favor and be even later next time, man? Some of us have lives.”

  Jack flipped his coworker the bird by way of apology as he wheeled his bike past into the office. The guy was still glaring at him when he came back out and took his place behind the register, so he shrugged noncommittally. “School stuff.”

  “You think I care why you're wasting my time?”

  Although Jack wanted to tell Daryl to stuff it since he was only a few minutes late, the guy had a point. More importantly if he complained to Mr. Ellis, their manager, he could get Jack in trouble. “I'll try harder to be on time.”

  Daryl shrugged irritably. “Whatever. Catch you later.”

  Jack nodded and pulled out his phone as his coworker left, checking stuff on the internet while waiting for people to make their purchases. Basically settling into worker mode, ready to burn 8 hours until he could finally go home.

  He was expecting another uneventful evening, same as always. He definitely didn't think that in less than five hours he'd be watching on the news as the attack that caused the collapse of society happened.

  * * * * *

  Jack was so engrossed in checking things on his phone that he completely missed it at first.

  More accurately, on the TV in one corner of the gas station the channel interrupted its usual programming to bring an urgent news bulletin. One Jack didn't look up and notice until minutes after it had started.

  It was only when Kelly, who came in part time for the busier evening hours, gasped loudly beside him that he looked up from his phone. He followed her shocked gaze to the TV screen and the breaking news bulletin displayed there.

  At first Jack wondered if he was watching a movie trailer or scene from a war movie, since at the moment the screen displayed some sort of factory along a waterside going up in a spectacular explosion. Then the crawl began at the bottom of the of the screen identifying the factory as an oil refinery owned by a major corporation, and giving its location along the Gulf of Mexico.

  The video feed changed to a different angle on the explosion, then back to a newsroom where a solemn panel of newscasters was discussing it, with a large banner bearing the words “ACCIDENT OR ATTACK?” plastered across the scene just over the Breaking News crawl with its nonstop stream of information.

  Still not quite believing this wasn't some movie, Jack grabbed the remote and unmuted the TV.

  “...responders have just arrived at the scene and begun fighting the flames and attempting to rescue any workers inside. Thankfully it's after hours so only a skeleton crew is on shift, but even so the loss of life is esti-”

  The anchor at the end of the panel was leaning over slightly with one hand over his ear, obviously receiving new information. His face had gone deathly pale, and he abruptly straightened and held out his hand to the woman talking. “Sorry to interrupt you, Karen,” he said solemnly, “but we've just received word that other refineries and storage sites in the area may have been targeted. Our people are trying to get in contact with local officials now for confirmation.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. That certainly seemed to answer the question of whether it was an accident or an attack.

  The few customers in the store had all paused to stare at the TV. Over the next couple minutes the anchor went on to announce that yes, over a dozen sites were confirmed to have been struck in what now appeared to be a massive terror attack, and that there was every indication even more had been targeted but information on them hadn't yet been verified.

  The news feed began scrambling to spit out images of other explosions, other fires, burning wreckage, and even the visually arresting sight of flaming oil spilling out into the Gulf and setting it alight in a slowly spreading conflagration.

  At this last view one woman in the store screamed, hands over her mouth in horror.

  And so it continued. In spite of being after hours hundreds of refinery workers were estimated dead and emergency responders were desperately doing what they could to put a dent in this disaster. Meanwhile more firefighters and EMTs were being rushed in from surrounding areas to assist, along with medical and firefighting helicopters and emergency vehicles.

  Dozens of vital fuel storage sites, refineries, and infrastructure hubs were damaged or destroyed, and the burning spill on the water was spreading to cover a significant chunk of the Gulf of Mexico off the States that shared a coast with it.

  Jack almost forgot about his job as he gaped at the TV while the sky outside darkened and hours slowly passed. He absently rang customers through, eyes glued to the screen, and wouldn't have noticed if shoplifters walked out the door right in front of him.

  Over time the frantically working news crew was able to get past what was happening and start looking into how. Apparently many of the explosions were due to boats simply sailing right up to the refineries and detonating at vulnerable spots along their loading ports. Other targets had been hit with vans packed with explosives, while some seemed to have simply exploded out of the blue, likely from comparatively small amounts of explosives smuggled close enough to the oil or refined fuel storage tanks to detonate them.

  Nobody had so much as a guess about who was responsible for the attacks, although Federal agencies were scrambling to find a culprit and several small-time terrorist organizations were taking credit. But what was quickly becoming abundantly clear was that the US's refining capabilities had just been delivered a crippling, perhaps mortal blow, and the majority of its fuel reserves were currently going up in flames.

  By the time Kelly finished her shift and headed home at around 10 p.m. the anchors were already talking like this was going to be another Middle East Crisis.

  Jack couldn't quite get on board with that sentiment. Yes, this was a serious attack, probably the most serious the US had seen since 9/11. But it was hard to appreciate the spirit of doom and gloom the newscasters kept trying to push this time around, considering what they were comparing it to.

  Back during the Middle East Crisis a year ago people had acted like they were in the middle of a literal apocalypse, and for good reason. Iran and Israel nuking each other and a significant portion of their neighbors right off the face of the planet, the drastic dropoff in oil production from the entire region, the fears of the event sparking a massive violent conflict that might engulf the entire world in war . . .

  Yes it had been horrific, and yes there had been problems afterwards, issues that they were still dealing with. But the world hadn't ended, and for most people in America their lives hadn't really changed all that much aside from prices going up a bit, especially for gas, and having to do without some luxuries in favor of day to day living.

  And this attack? Yeah the sight of the entire coast along the Gulf of Mexico on fire from who knew how many millions of gallons of spilled oil was impressive, but it wasn't even nukes. Even if they'd lost a few refineries and some fuel reserves Jack couldn't see how this event would be any more than a minor blip. Especially here in Salt Lake City, so far from the Gulf and what was happening.

  The media would run the story into the ground and hype it for the next few weeks, and for the next few months they'd pop tidbits into the nightly news about any new findings on the perpetrators of the attack, and on the aftermath and reconstruction of the affected areas. But aside from that Jack didn't see much coming from it.

  Just another crazy event in a crazy world. Everyone would act like society was doomed while they continued going to work and shopping and living their lives, and maybe gas prices would go up again or the US would have to bow and scrape to the Gold Bloc and make a few concessions to get it to sell them fuel during this crisis.

  Then before too long it would all be forgotten, another paragraph in the history books. Just like always.

  Before Jack knew it his shift was over, and Cray had showed up to relieve him on the night shift. The older man wanted to keep Jack around and jaw about the night's crazy events, but Jack was exhausted and not looking forward to waking up early the next morning to get to his first period class.

  Lack of sleep had a way of accumulating when you were working full time around going to school full time, on top of trying to keep up with homework and have at least some kind of social life. Especially with his night shifts on the weekends messing up his sleep schedule. Anything that kept him from crashing for what little sleep he was able to get tended to piss him off.

  So he left Cray to take over his vigil watching the unfolding story on the TV, grabbed his bike, and pedaled home.

  Unsurprisingly Jack's roommates were all up watching the news. Or at least it was running in the background while they browsed the internet on their phones digging for new information about the attack. These days people who'd actually witnessed an event could put up pictures and videos and give firsthand accounts of what was happening within minutes. In most cases these firsthand takes on events were more accurate than the second, third, or even fourthhand accounts offered by the news, or at the very they least offered a more personal perspective to the unfolding situation.

  Greg tried to drag Jack into watching a video on his phone that showed a worker recording a personal vlog during a break when the first explosions that destroyed the refinery he worked at began in the background. The man managed to survive the devastation and escape to upload the video, which was some of the most raw footage of the attack available.

  Jack just waved him away and continued wearily pushing his bike to his room. “I'll catch it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” his roommate repeated incredulously. “By tomorrow this video will be old news!”

  You're telling me, Jack thought as he put his stuff away and undressed for bed, already dreading the inevitable rude awakening from his alarm that would be going off far sooner than he'd like.

  Yes this attack was horrific and would certainly be serious for those affected by it, but in the grand scheme of things it was no big deal.

  Chapter One

  Rude Awakening

  Jack slept through the President's address to the nation during the first period of class the morning after the Gulf refineries attack.

  He couldn't really help himself; usually it took a heroic effort to stay awake in the mornings at the best of times, and more than a few times in the past Mr. Pierce had woken him up with a snippy comment, or more embarrassingly he'd woken himself up with the uncomfortable realization he was snoring.

  Only with everyone's attention on the TV nobody was waking him up now, and he took full advantage of that. It was only after the address ended and his teacher started calling for everyone to get out their textbooks and start paying attention to the day's lesson that Jack forced himself to open his eyes and stifled a groan as he straightened in his seat.

  Around him the other students were talking about what the President had said, which sounded like just the sort of reassurances that the situation really wasn't all that serious that Jack had expected. That everything would be back to normal in a few months, and that while they might need to weather a bit of discomfort in the moment it would soon be over.

  No sweat: Jack was used to discomfort.

  He was one of the first to open his textbook, although not to listen to the lecture. Jack often used lecture time to try to catch up on homework when his teachers let him get away with it, focusing just enough to catch the important bits of the presentation.

  Mr. Pierce was usually pretty cool about him reading study material or even filling out homework answers as long as he was quiet about it, and Jack had discovered that the man tended to lift his lectures almost straight out of the textbook. So as long as he read quickly and paid attention for the change in tone that let him know the teacher was straying off text with the lesson, he usually got the full benefit from the class period and finished his homework for that class, too.

  Heck, sometimes he was even able to get homework done for other classes whose teachers weren't as easygoing.

  Everyone else was still talking about the attack and the President's speech. Jack didn't have too much trouble concentrating in spite of that, although every now and then he'd overhear an interesting tidbit. But his concentration was broken completely when one of his classmates started talking about food shortages.

  Jack looked up from his textbook. “Food shortages? What're you talking about?”

  The guy looked annoyed at being interrupted. “Weren't you paying attention? The President mentioned that all remaining fuel is being seized by the government for emergency purposes, including giving local and state leaders authority to take control of gas stations and fuel depots. How do you think food's going to get shipped to us if the shipping companies can't get any diesel?”

  A few people were nodding at that, but Jack just laughed. “Dude, they're not going to shut down shipping even if this is an emergency. Or if they do it'll only be temporarily.”

  “They may not have a choice,” his classmate argued. “Didn't you hear the President? The nation is out of gas. He wasn't saying all that stuff about tightening our belts for something as simple as prices going up at the grocery store, this is going to be something more serious.”

  Jack still wasn't buying it. “Okay so they might stop shipping for other stuff, but not food. Besides, even if they did it's not like the entire city will suddenly run out and we'll all be starving tomorrow.”

  “Isn't it?” a girl farther down the row who'd been listening in said suddenly. “I work at a grocery store and we only keep enough stock to fill the shelves, ordering more as needed. It's more efficient that way and saves money, but it means that if the trucks stop coming our shelves'll be looking pretty empty in just a few days.”

  Jack didn't have an answer for that; the same was true for the gas station he worked at.

  The first guy immediately jumped on her point. “Yeah, that's how just about everything runs these days. Just enough for current needs to prevent waste and cut down on unneeded storage space. And most households are the same. Enough food for a few days, a week at most, before it's time to go to the store again.” He gave Jack a pointed look. “How much food is in your fridge at home?”

  Not much, actually. Jack ate breakfast and lunch at the school during the week, and for dinner usually just bolted down something quick and easy, or more often grabbed something from the gas station at the beginning of his shift.

  He shrugged uncomfortably, realizing he was losing this debate. “I don't think the entire country's going to grind to a halt just because a few refineries blew up,” he countered, although not as confidently.

  “Maybe not, but we're in for hard times.” The student leaned back, not looking satisfied by his win; probably because of the ramifications of what he was suggesting. “And I have a feeling it'll be much worse than the aftermath of the Middle East Crisis because it's hitting us directly.”

  A grim silence fell. Into that silence Mr. Pierce spoke up from the front of the class. “All right, I guess we should get started.”

  In spite of the teacher's statement he seemed too distracted, even distraught, to teach properly. He gave it a good try for maybe ten minutes, speaking louder and louder above the murmurs of students still discussing the Gulf refineries attack and the President's address. Then, finally, he gave up and just turned the TV back on so they could watch the news.

  That trend persisted throughout the day. Only one of Jack's classes was anything close to productive, the teacher quashing all conversation and keeping everyone's nose to the grindstone. All the rest were dominated by shared news, speculation about the future, and nervousness about the possibility of further attacks.

  Jack was more and more dismayed to find that his rational, calm viewpoint that this situation wasn't all that serious wasn't shared by many others, even among the teachers. In fact, the student who'd talked about food shortages in his first class was one of the more reserved of those making predictions.

  Some were already saying this was the attack that would set off World War III, with the Gold Bloc the big bad enemy to be faced.

  More than one person even speculated that the coalition of eastern European, Asian, and South American countries, who'd formed around a gold standard for oil to contest the petrodollar, was the most likely suspect for this attack on the refineries along the Gulf of Mexico. They had the resources to plan and carry it out, and seemed like they had the biggest motivation.

  Jack couldn't imagine any world power engaging in that sort of clandestine terror attack against another world power in this age of information, where it'd be impossible to hide the clues pointing back to them and that sort of blatant provocation would probably result in some sort of thermonuclear exchange.

  At the same time it didn't seem like any of the more notorious terrorist groups had the resources to plan and carry out something like this, and certainly not before getting caught by US intelligence agents.

  Ultimately Jack couldn't view the entire thing as more than a curiosity. A tragic one, sure, but like an accident on the highway it provoked mostly detached interest.

  Not that he was complaining about anything that made school more interesting, or gave teachers an excuse to chill out and let everyone do their thing. That sort of relaxed day was just what he needed after the last few days of long work hours, crushing homework, quizzes, and lack of sleep. Even so he was more than ready for school to be over so he could go home and crash.

  Who knew, maybe by the time he woke up from his nap an announcement would be all over the news that the culprits of the Gulf refineries attack had been identified and measures were being taken to bring them to justice.

  Unfortunately it looked like he wasn't going to be that lucky, because almost as soon as the last bell rang his phone also started ringing. Jack fumbled it out of his pocket and checked the screen, then frowned: the call was from his manager at the gas station, Mr. Ellis.