Free Point of Crisis by Steven Konkoly Page B

camouflage-patterned mountain bike.
    “Nice ride,” said Alex, lowering his rifle.
    “Spray painted it myself.”
    “Couldn’t tell.”
    “Tech Sergeant David Gedmin. 22 nd Special Tactics Squadron.”
    “Combat Controller? You’re a long way from home,” said Alex.
    “Tell me about it. I just wanted to check in before it got crazy around here,” he said, dismounting the bike and peeking into the hangar.
    “Captain Alex Fletcher. United States Marines. I’m acting as a forward liaison for 1 st Battalion, 25 th Infantry Regiment. How long do we have until it gets hectic?”
    “Forty-eight hours, tops. We have two C-130s rolling in within the hour to deliver a more robust air traffic control package. Radar, generators, fuel, and more personnel. Once that’s up and running, the RRZ gets the green light for full deployment. We’ll have air traffic 24/7.”
    “I thought air control was your job?” joked Alex.
    “Combat air control. Higher stress, lower volume. This is more like combining a runway at Logan with the flight deck of a carrier.”
    “Sounds like fun.”
    “Sounds like a clusterfuck. Are you taking all three of these hangars?”
    “Yeah. I have a Marine battalion with a motor transport element, and we need quick access to a gate. We’ll be coming and going at all hours.”
    “Well, you picked the right spot for that, plus you’ll be out of the way. I’d base your ready vehicles in the rear hangar so they don’t get boxed in. The taxiway in front of your hangars will get busy,” he said, his eyes shifting past Alex’s left shoulder , no doubt having just caught a glimpse of the equipment.
    “Thanks for the heads-up. I expect the full battalion to arrive within three days with the bulk of our vehicles. I have a platoon-size element heading down from Brunswick. Should be here by tomorrow.”
    “Reservists?”
    “Reserve infantry battalion out of Fort Devens. The Marines are spread out all over New England.”
    “Nifty rifles for a reserve unit,” Gedmin said, nodding at the middle container.
    The doors had partially opened, exposing several of the suppressed combat rifles.
    “Tell me about it. The containers came out of one of the secret stashes pre-staged around the airport.”
    “Lots of secrets,” he said, glancing from the rifles to Alex with a grimace.
    “How did you end up at Sanford Seacoast Regional Airport? I assume you didn’t ride that bike from Seattle,” said Alex.
    “A Humvee pulled up to my house at three in the morning on Monday. I got fifteen minutes to pack up and say good-bye to my family. Less than an hour after that, I was sitting on a government Learjet taking off from McChord Field, headed here. The whole squadron was deployed.”
    “Any word on what happened?”
    Gedmin shook his head. “Mum’s the word from higher echelon stations. Any news on your end?”
    “Nothing official, but it’s pretty obvious that we’re dealing with an EMP.”
    “What do you think about the Homeland broadcasts claiming a near-Earth object landed off the coast?”
    “I’ve just returned from Boston. Witnesses reported seeing a messy contrail headed out over the water, like the one in Siberia several years ago. I’m inclined to believe what they’re saying, but the rest?”
    “We thought it might be a limited nuclear attack. Something the government is to keep under wraps while they figure out how to retaliate. Maybe North Korea?”
    “Funny you say that. My father picked up several HAM broadcasts claiming that our entire ballistic missile sub fleet has been deployed. Bangor Naval Base, up in your neck of the woods, supposedly emptied out yesterday.”
    “I wish they’d tell us something. Anything.”
    “They won’t. Not if there’s a nuclear option on the table. How were things back west? My dad heard reports that the EMP effects weren’t as bad in the Pacific Northwest.”
    “We still had power at the house when the Humvees arrived. I have no idea if any of our