Radioactive: A Dirty Bomb Prepper Survival Story Read online

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  Radioactive

  Table of Contents

  Radioactive

  Chapter 1 – False Securities

  Chapter 2 – Panic

  Chapter 3 – GTFO

  Chapter 4 – Checkpoint

  Chapter 5 – Phoenix on My Mind

  Smoke billowed from around the entire base. Screams were muffled by the sounds of sirens and blasts coming from every direction. There wasn’t a safe place to hide. They were caught off guard. Shrapnel and fires from the bombs of enemy aircraft ravaged the naval ships. Crewman were burned, maimed, and blast to pieces.

  Men attempting to escape from the smaller ships through the water were either dragged down by their own equipment or by the hundreds of others desperately trying to stay alive. Any that survived the waters were mowed down by the swarming aircraft that picked them off like fish in a barrel.

  This harbor was supposed to be impenetrable. The shallow waters made it impossible for submarine assault, and they were too far out of reach for any airstrike to be effective without being picked up by their radar. However, all of those securities were blown apart along with 21 ships that were sunk or damaged including 8 battleships and 188 aircraft.

  The attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941 took the lives of 2,471 Americans as Japanese fighter pilots decimated the naval air base. Those events reverberated throughout the rest of the United States and prompted us into World War II.

  Over 70 years later, the American military is still considered the most powerful military force in the world. A large portion of how a military’s power is defined comes from the prowess of its navy. In 2011 the U.S. Navy controlled almost fifty percent of the world’s naval power. The second largest percentage was the Russian Navy, which came in at around eleven percent.

  The homeport for the United States Pacific Fleet belongs to the San Diego Naval Base. It is home to forty-nine navy ships, two coast guard cutters, five military sealift command logistical support platforms, and many research and auxiliary vessels. This base has played a central role in the relief efforts of natural and terrorist disasters. It is the central logistical hub for the entire Southwest region for the American Navy.

  There is an annual exercise to simulate an attack on the naval base to ensure that police and military personnel stay on their toes. They go over legitimate scenarios of how a person, or persons, could sneak onto the base to cause serious destruction or harm to military personnel and equipment. These role playing incidents cover anything from a boat attack to enemy divers placing bombs under water. The San Diego Naval Base considers itself thoroughly prepared for any attack.

  So did Pearl Harbor.

  Chapter 1 – False Securities

  It was a gray sky morning. Like Jim, the sun was taking its time getting up to start the day. He stared at the blinking alarm clock as the buzzing sound struggled to break through his foggy mind. He rose out of bed and rested his feet on the soft carpet. He lingered there for a moment and stretched his neck. He ran his hands through his short hair and rubbed his face.

  Jim Farr was a slender, toned built man in his thirties. He had some premature graying hair speckled into his scalp and along the stubble on his face, although with him closing in on forty he wasn’t sure the phrase “premature” really applied anymore.

  He cracked the blinds to the small window in his room. His eyes were met with a quiet stillness reserved for lazy Sundays, even though it was only Tuesday. A slight purring came from beneath his feet as his cat, Tigs, wrapped her body around his legs. He smiled down at her as she made her figure eights, meowing for her breakfast. Jim reached down and picked her up, “Let’s eat.”

  The small kitchen was clean and tidy. A gas stove was sandwiched in between the counters with a microwave above it. Jim reached for the cat food in a small pantry as Tigs bounced around excitingly and poured it into her bowl. He grabbed the water bowl, refilled it, and placed it down next to her as she chewed on her breakfast. He gave her a pat and then headed back down the hallway.

  Jim opened a skinny door located at the end of the hallway where a large black safe lined the side of the closet taking up much of the space. Blankets, first aid kits, water, and canned goods lined the rest of the closet shelf space. He unzipped a large backpack on the floor and rummaged through the small portions of food, water, and medical supplies inside it. He took note of his inventory on a checklist sheet going along and marking the items off as he came across them. He flipped a bag of instant oatmeal over in his hand and read the expiration date. It was the very same day. He kept the oatmeal pack in his hand as he secured the rest of the materials in his bag and left it open.

  He returned to the kitchen and tossed the packet on the table. He rummaged through one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled a new box of instant oatmeal out, tore the side of the box, and pulled out another pack. Jim then went back to the hallway to replace the oatmeal pack he took and then double checked everything to make sure it was secured in the bag and shut the door.

  Jim ripped open the oatmeal bag and poured it into a small, beige bowl, added some water, and microwaved it for a minute and a half. He sat down on the steel chair of his round table and picked up paper from the day before. Jim caught Tigs staring at him as he shoveled the mush into his mouth, “What? It said it was good until today.”

  After Jim finished his breakfast he tossed the bowl in the sink and rinsed it out. He walked back to his room and opened up his closet, grabbing his light blue polo and dark blue cargo pants. He dressed quickly and snatched his Navy security badge off the top of his dresser as he walked out.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket as he locked the front door. He slipped his phone out as he got to his truck, throwing his work bag in the back while tucking his shirt in, “Hey, John,” Jim said into the phone. It was his boss, Captain Streak.

  Captain John Streak’s office was as orderly as the man himself. His shirt had edges as sharp as his oak desk and the bars on his uniform stretched broad like his shoulders, “You know you’re the only person that works here that doesn’t address me as Captain?”

  Jim replied very matter of fact. “Well, that’s because I’m a contractor, John. I don’t actually work in the Navy.” He then murmured to himself away from the phone, “at least not anymore.” He hung his badge around the rearview mirror as he cranked the engine to life. He brought the phone back to his mouth. “If you could just teach your boys proper marine mechanics I wouldn’t have to come and fix your ships all of the time.”

  “For the price you charge I could just buy a new one,” John said as he took a swig of coffee from his mug and set it gently down on a coaster. He swiveled in his chair to look out the window and at the line of warships in the bay. “Jim, I just wanted to give you a reminder about the drills happening this week. It’ll be a bit busy around here so security will be tight.”

  Jim turned his truck onto the highway. Light traffic dotted the lanes as Jim slid his sunglasses on to block out the risi
ng sun. The orange light bathed the coast in a warm glow. “You’re still going through with it then?”

  John rubbed the creases in his forehead as he logged into his computer on his desk, “We’ve had our FBI friends look into it and they don’t seem to be worried. Besides, the drills we’re doing this week are to prepare for those situations. We’re already on high alert. We’ll be fine.” John picked up a small frame in his worn hands. A laughing woman and two squirming kids were wrapped in his arms. “I wouldn’t let anything happen if there was a real threat.”

  Jim merged onto an exit heading west. “Just tell your boys to keep the cavity checks to a minimum until after I’m there.” John let out a snort on the other end of the phone while saying, “Will do.” Jim slid the phone off and tossed it in the cup holder. He rolled the window down to let the fresh salt air breeze his face.

  Security gates and personnel lined the entrance to the naval base. Jim’s truck idled in line as he watched the canine units run past cars before entering. “At least the guys with gloves aren’t out,” he said to himself. He pulled up to the gatekeeper, a young man with a clean shaven face and strong build, and gave a smile. “Rough game last night? It’s gotta be hard being a Cubs fan.” The young man shook his head as he scribbled on his clipboard. “You know, Jim, I’m authorized to use my side arm against any hostile threat,” he said while lifting his head up to meet Jim’s smile. “Even if it’s against my Cubs.” Jim tossed him his badge as he scanned it. “Have a good one, Sean.” Jim caught his ID as Sean tossed it back and drove onto the base.

  Jim parked in the remote lot and saw his friend Coyle leaning up against his work van. He gave a nod to Jim before he opened up the back doors and started rummaging for his tool kit. “Bout time you showed up,” Coyle said as he threw on his jumpsuit that covered his matching polo and blue cargo pants.

  “Hey,” Jim called to him. The top half of Coyle’s body was consumed in the back of the van. “Make sure you have your badge visible on you today.” The clank of metal on metal rang from the van, Coyle was less than responsive. “Huh?” he asked, distracted. Jim pounded on the side of the van causing Coyle to pop his head with an annoyed expression. “What?” he asked again. Jim grabbed the badge hanging out of Coyle’s pocket. “Keep this on you and keep it visible. Captain John told me that they’re doing their drills this week, so it’s gonna be tight around here.” Coyle snatched his badge out of Jim’s hand. “They were definitely thorough when I came in. I’ll be walking funny all day.”

  He pinned the ID card to the front of his jumpsuit and grabbed the rest of his tools. “So what are we getting at today?” Jim motioned over to the coast guard cutter in the harbor, “Something’s wrong with her operation system. She keeps choking when they start her up.” Coyle pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and popped it into the left side of his mouth. “This place would sink without us,” he said. Jim grabbed the cigarette out of Coyle’s mouth. “And you’d get kicked out of this place without me.”

  “Hey!” Coyle said as he tried to reach for the cigarette back, but Jim was too fast. Jim pocketed the smoke and looked at a frowning Coyle who then reached back into his pocket for another one. “I thought you quit?” Jim asked. Coyle pulled out another smoke and slid it into his mouth. “I did, but I still like going through the motions. It makes me feel better.”

  Crowds outside the naval base began to grow. The U.S.S Midway, part the education Navy Museum, was permanently parked in San Diego Bay. The traffic in the parking lot was picking up and sunscreen coated tourists were pouring out into the warm morning sun.

  A large black van sat idled in line at the main security gate. The driver wore dark aviator sunglasses and a ball cap labeled, “Real Productions” on the front. A long blonde-haired woman sat in the passenger seat playing on her phone. She was in her mid-twenties and quite attractive, and the navy men were quick to point with their whistles as she rode past them.

  The canine unit ran by and circled the car, cleared it, then moved on. Sean came out to greet the driver as he rolled down his window. “How are you doing, sir?” he asked. The driver smiled in response. “I’m fine. We’re part of the production team here for the training exercises today.”

  Sean checked his clipboard, and without looking up said, “I’ll need to see your clearance badges.” The man nodded and said, “Sure, no problem.” He tapped the girl on the shoulder as she looked up from her phone. “Badges?” he asked. She threw her hands up in exasperation and dove into her purse pulling out two badges with barcodes on the back.

  Sean scanned the two badges as their pictures and names popped up on his screen. Sean glanced at the girl, and then back to the driver, “Okay, Mr. Fin, you’re going to want to report to the main office and meet with Captain Streak for further instructions.” Sean handed the two badges back to him. Mr. Fin smiled again and replied, “Thank you.”

  The sun rose higher in the sky as Jim dismantled the control panel on the bridge of the coast guard cutter they were on. Different color wires were exposed as he pulled a pair of pliers out of his tool box. He stripped three wires of their multi-color wax coatings and twisted them together. Jim grabbed a laptop out of his bag and plugged a portable USB card into the side which brought up some schematics of the ship. He picked up a small radio out of the tools strewn about the floor and hit the side box. “Coyle, are you getting a signal down there?”

  Coyle, who was now covered in engine grease down below in the aft engine room, checked the LCD screen on the engine board. He pulled the radio to his mouth and clicked the talk button. “Yeah, it looks like we’re good. She lives!” He threw his arms up in the air victorious.

  Jim gave a fist pump himself. “And just in time for lunch,” he said. He closed his laptop and began to put the control panel back together as his radio started to pick up static with voices breaking in and out. Jim picked it up. “Coyle?” he asked. More static blew through and then it fell silent. “Coyle I didn’t hear that last part.” A voice rang through very clearly talking in low hushed tones. It wasn’t Coyle’s voice that was coming through the speaker as Jim heard. “We are a go,” the voice said. More static rushed through the line followed by a loud screeching, and then it broke off. Coyle’s voice finally broke through. “Easy there, bud. No need for a sound check.”

  Jim replied quickly. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what? You making those banshee screams into the radio?” Coyle jeered.

  Jim shook his head and stood up from the floor of the bridge and looked out the window into the bay. “I think we were picking up some traffic from the training exercises going on.” The radio in his hand dropped to Jim’s side as he scanned the massive destroyers in the bay. The waves lapped onto their gray, steel sides without them so much as making them flinch. Coyle’s voice broke him out of his trance, “Well, I think we should finish up here and grab some food. I’m starv—”

  Before Coyle could finish, an explosion rattled the bowels of the ship and knocked Jim onto his back. The noise was deafening. Jim couldn’t hear anything but a solid ringing in his ears. His vision was blurred as the boat rocked back and forth and the tools slid across the floor clanging against the insides of the bridge. He tried to steady his legs as he stood up, but they kept going limp like wet noodles. A seemingly far away voice called out to him. It was faint, but growing stronger. Coyle was screaming through the radio. “Jim! Jim! What the hell was that? Talk to me, Jim!”

  Jim reached for the radio across the floor and fumbled it into his hands. “Coyle? Are you alright?” Coyle’s voice rang in loud and clear. “I think I busted my ass, but I’m okay. You alright?”

  Jim felt around his body for any injuries and then glanced at his reflection in the window to see if he had anything on his face. “I… I’m fine,” he said with a pause. He stopped to observe smoke plumes rising from the base. Small bodies in the distance ran towards one another. Several fire trucks headed towards the source of the smoke. He gathered wh
at was left in his bag and immediately began to exit the bridge. “Coyle, meet me on the main deck. Forget whatever gear you have lying around. Just grab whatever’s left in your tool bag and move. NOW!”

  Coyle grabbed his bag and limped through the engine room. He ran up the stairs onto the main deck and saw Jim descending the stairs from the bridge. The next sight he saw was half of the base completely demolished.

  Jim met him on the deck and they both surveyed the aftermath. The cause of the smoke was a crater about the size of the forty-seven foot cutter they were standing on. They were about a half a mile away from the incident and Jim could make out motionless bodies lying on the ground as teams of medics rushed the scene. Jim grabbed Coyle by the arm and spun him around. “You sure you alright?” he asked with a deep concern in his face.

  Coyle nodded numbly with his mouth slack jawed. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Jim, what the hell happened?” Jim shook his head. “I’m not sure, but we need to find the closest security office and check in.”

  Jim and Coyle took off at a jogger’s pace with their bags at their sides. They ran along the dock, and as they got closer to the damage, the sounds of screams and muffled shouts became audible. They ran past the main office and Jim spotted Captain John talking to a group of soldiers while pointing in different directions. A portion of them broke off and sprinted towards the blast site.