Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

Real World Opening

A Real World. Jesus. With causalities. In CONUS. My mind brought up images of an entire town dying from a radiation leak from a nuclear plants and worse.

Once dressed I hurried down to the Charlie Company Offices, finding the door unlocked. Inside Harrison was opening the Arms Room. I went by him, heading for the NBC Room.

"What's going on, Chief?" He asked. "I need the CO to authorize handing out the weapons."

"As you should," I told him, unlocking the NBC Room and moving to the Secure Item Storage. "I'll need an M-3 for me, and an M-9. We'll need a full basic load, make it a double basic load for me."

He nodded, "I'll prep it. Should I load the magazines?"

"As fast as possible," I told him, moving back to the NBC Room. I went inside, not bothering to turn on the lights.

I grabbed the radiation detectors, radiation markers, maps, grease-pencil board, and everything else I knew I'd need.

I'd gotten lucky, we'd gotten a reload on the NBC Room only two days prior.

I checked my watch. 0320.

Captain Jane came in, practically running. She was in PT's, her hair sloppily put up in a bun, and her eyes still bleary.

"You got in quick," I commented.

"Took Turkey Run Road and did about 80," She said. She stretched and yawned, "What's going on, Chief?"

"I haven't been briefed yet. Some kind of Real World situation, radiation casualties, here in CONUS," I turned and faced her. "We're not primary NEST, so something must have happened."

"NEST?" She picked up the sign in sheet next to the Arms Room, checked her watch, and began writing down the time and date and reason for opening the Arms Room.

"Nuclear Emergency Response Team," I told her. "They've got to be among the casualties."

She glanced at me, "Can you handle it?"

"Depends on what I find," I told her.

She frowned at the weapons being stacked up. "It's not just you?"

"No, I was told to assemble a team. That means ten men and women," I sighed, "No African-Americans in a radiation zone of unknown strength."

She frowned at that.

"Ma'am, am I to prepare the weapons for issue?" SPC Hamilton asked formally.

"Yes, with ammunition as detailed by Chief Cromwell," She snapped, then turned to me. "Why no African Americans?"

I sighed, "I know, I know, it sounds racist," I tapped the digital Geiger counter with my foot. "Live testing in the 1950's show that due to the dark skin and environmental adaptation inherent in African descent people, they absorb approximately eight point five times the radiation of a Nordic descent person," I shook my head, "I'd be criminal negligent to take them into this."

She nodded at that, taking the clipboard Hamilton was offering and signing.

There was a knock at the door and Captain Jane went and answered it. I didn't pay attention, looking at the gear.

It was all the new stuff, post-Desert Storm digital. Honestly, I didn't trust it, since I had seen the way radiation chewed up microprocessors, and wished I had the old analog equipment. Still, I had to trust TRACOD and DARPA that the equipment would last as it was supposed to.

Captain Jane came back with Donovan, who was dressed and ready. She handed me a manila envelope.

It had "SECRET (OMAHA)" and "RESTRICTED DATA (AEA)" telling me that this did indeed cover nuclear material or weapons. The sight of the OMAHA keyword made goosebumps rise up between my shoulder blades.